A Throne Nobody Wants
by Vahn
Summary: Written on a dare, a humorous take on what happen if FSN Mordred, Shirou and Arturia ends up in Westeros after their deaths at certain points in their lives. Featuring a Gender Bent Shirou and Arturia. Will be continued due to popularity. Now with an M rating.
1. Intro

Game of Thrones belong to G.R.R.M

Fate Stay Night belong to Type Moon

Special thanks to Delaney Telos for coming back to edit this chapter! Looking forward to working with ya!

A Throne Nobody Wants

*** Westeros ***

Mordred found herself swimming in darkness. The last thing she remembered was dying on her father's spear. Her beautiful, perfect father. A moment later, she felt a tremor in the darkness around space and it quaked all around her. "Faster than she could comprehend, she was pushed unwillingly toward a destination before a blinding light hit her eyes and knocked her out." When she came to, she saw a woman looked down lovingly at her, a woman with blonde hair and green eyes, that reminded her of her father in a way.

"Good morning, Mordred," the blonde woman cooed softly.

Mordred simply sighed. She was well-versed in sorcery thanks in part to her mother Morgana Le Fay. This was a reincarnation she had been reincarnated, birthed again and given a second chance. Maybe this was her chance at redemption. "Truth be told, the rebellion was all her mother's idea; she never wanted to fight her father, not really."

...Okay, so maybe she had something to prove to her father, but what son didn't?!

'Ah well,' Mordred thought forlornly, at least she got to keep her old name. Then a new thought occurred to her. 'Am I a boy or a girl in this new life?'

"Hello sister, how is your daughter ?" a handsome blonde hair man smirked cheekily at the blonde woman.

Mordred exhaled. . . Well, as best a baby could exhale. It seemed she was a girl, again. At least she wasn't a product of incest, again. That was one of the things that drove her to madness in the first place, with her crazy power-hungry mother. The woman looked kind enough and the man held an obviously filial love for his sis-

"Our daughter, Jamie, she's our daughter."

'Oh, _come_ _on_!' Mordred thought, failing to vocalized her frustration.

"Awww, look at that! She recognizes you as her father, and she seems so eager to meet you!" Cersei Lannister, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, beamed with joy as her daughter wiggled in her hold.

Jaime Lannister, his sister's lover, saw the way the baby was fussing about and felt that she was _anything_ but pleased with her new lot in life. 'What a strange child,' he thought. If he hadn't known any better, he would've thought his daughter was glaring at him, even as she wailed so perplexingly.

After a few seconds of venting without the proper vocal cords to do so, Mordred found herself tiring from the exertion. "Ah, well, at least the woman looks like the right sort. She doesn't seem the power hungry type."

*** Four years later Winterfell ***

Shirou couldn't feel his magical circuits! He found himself surrounded by darkness. The last thing he remembered was the blue guy with the lance stabbing him. 'So much for being a superhero. . .'

He realized he was dead – deader than dead. Everything was black. Did that mean that there was no heaven or hell? Was he eternally stuck, in this perpetual lim

'Whoa, what was that?!' Shirou though frantically as a tremor passed through him. He felt himself being pulled somewhere, and his body could not fight against whatever the force was.

'OhmygodI'mgoingtohell!'

It all happened so fast – a flash of brilliant light, pain at being struck, something cut from his belly – the pain was so sharp! He tried to fight back, but it was to no avail. His body was weak – it was over.

Then he felt a hand take hold of him. Wearily, his eyes opened and he saw a woman with red hair, similar to his own, peering down at him. Beside her was a stern looking man with black hair.

He was a magus – a shitty one to be sure, but still a magus. He knew enough about the reincarnation theory to realize what was happening.

'Oh... I've been reborn.' Shirou thought with amazement. Judging by his lack of magical circuits and his week body, the Root must have somehow transplanted his soul into this new body. It was a miracle! Maybe he could be a superhero anyway, and help peop-

"Say hello to your daughter Sansa, Ned." Catelyn Stark proudly presented their daughter to her husband.

"Wait, what?!" Shirou screamed as he – or rather, she – was held up high by the giant man.

"Welcome to Winterfell, Sansa Stark," Eddard Stark proudly stated as his daughter continued to wail. A good set of lungs was a good thing to have in the North.

***Ten Years Later, Essos ***

"Pendra, your work shift is over; go home to your sister, else she'll have my head!" Larazero Aenion, head of the Free Cities farm trade and a fat, heavy set man, jovially yelled to young Arthur Pendra.

Arthur Pendra, a lad of fourteen years, sighed and nodded gratefully. On his way back to the home he shared with his sister, he was greeted by many familiar people. Many a girl, around his age, giggled and blushed his way. Not one to be rude, he gave each a tilt of his head, causing further giggles.

As soon as he approached his home, his sister, as if sensing his presence opened the door, her silver hair trailing behind her as she tackled him with a great, big hug.

"Brother, you're home!" Daenery Targaryen, now called Dana Pendra, lovingly greeted her brother.

Arthur swallowed hard at the disturbing affection in her eyes. He would have to try to find her a good husband, soon, though she was still adamant about marrying him. He had to shudder at that, disbelieving that in his new life, he had a sister who wanted to hold an incestuous relationship with him.

'Damn you, Ser Darry!' Arthur thought without real heat to their benefactor as he followed his sister into their home. At least she wasn't a crazy bitch like his old sister, Le Fay; the girl was sweet beyond words and worshiped the ground he walked on. He sighed again, considering how he needed to find her a good match soon.

Arthur Pendra, born Viserys Targaryen, was odd. Instead of the famous silver hair his family was known for, his had been golden, brighter than even that of the Lannisters. The "Golden Dragon," they called him. It was only due to his violet eyes that they did not suspect a Lannister of bedding the Queen.

Of course, they didn't know his secret: he had been a woman in his previous life – a woman who went on to become the High King of all Britannia. He had always wondered what it was like to be male, and being reborn as one after the Battle of Camlann was something he had not expected. He could not help but suspect that perhaps his adviser Merlin had a hand in this. The world he'd ended up in, the land, were all strange – and yet so familiar.

He was the second-born child of Aerys Targaryen II, the Mad King. Arthur, as he now called himself, could not help but agree with that title. With over twenty years of ruling experience, from a yung age he knew that a rebellion would not be long in forming.

It had not escaped his notice that he was born again a dragon, and that the populace rose up once again to fight the dragons. And as in his own world, the dragon rulers died – well, almost. Ser William Darry had wanted to find more people in the Free Cities to help reclaim their throne, but Arthur would not have it. No, Westeros had seen enough war and strife. His family had failed the people, and the old knight had agreed and died not too long afterward.

It was tough eking out a living, but to live openly as Targaryens was to court death. Of course, calling themselves Pendragons was also rather obvious, so he'd shortened it – a reminder of his old life, and the beginnings of a new one.

"Brother!"

Arthur snapped out of his musings and saw his sister giving him a strange look, ones she'd been sending him since her first blooding. "Yes, sister?"

His hackles suddenly rose as his sister walked toward him seductively. She discarded her clothing, piece by piece, as she sauntered toward him.

"I asked, my beloved Golden Dragon," Daenerys said in a husky whisper as she drew closer to her brother, "If you would like to have dinner first-"

Arthur looked into his sister's violet eyes, smoldering with a disturbing gleam, and quickly tried to squash her thoughts. "I'd like the din-"

"Or me," she finished as she stood, stark naked in front of her brother.

'Damn you, Darry!' Arthur cursed the deceased knight again. He steeled his face to begin yet another lecture on the immorality of incest – a task made much more difficult because his family had a long history of incestuous relationships.

Prologue End

AN: Special thanks to again to Delaney Telos. Because of him, this chapter get some proper editorial work done! It's like night and day! So I won't ramble. Save to say thank you! This story started as an amusing idea but it spawn a lot more chapter with an over reaching story! Hope ya'll like it!


	2. Chapter 1

Game of Thrones belong to G.R.R.M

Fate Stay Night belong to Type Moon

Special thanks to Deer-Shifter for making this chapter better than it had any rights to be! I look forward to working with ya!

A Throne Nobody Wants

Chap 1

*** King's Landling***

Sixteen year old Mordred Baratheon stalked through the halls of the Red Keep,; here and there servants scrambled to get out of her way. There were a few guardsmen that weren't quick enough for her, so she pretended to lunge at them. The look of fear in their eyes inwardly made her happy.

'Ah, the fresh taste of fear in the morning.'

"Sister! Please, can I take off this armour yet?" Joffrey Baratheon, Crown Prince, pleaded with his elder sister.

Mordred immediately stopped and felt Joffrey crash into her. Naturally the little wimp ended up on his ass due to the impact. He wasn't much of a man. Hell, she was ten times the man she was and she wasn't even a male!

"Are you..." Mordred began in a dangerous tone of voice as she turned to face her one year younger little brother. "…talking back to me?"

"N-No! Of course not, dear-sweet-beloved-kind sister!" Joffrey immediately bowed his head to beg for forgiveness. "It's just, we've been at it for hours now and I am... slightly winded."

Mordred curled her lip in disgust at the lack of iron in her brother' spine. Hours of training were NOTHING back in Camelot. Ugh. Half the people in here would be eaten alive by her father, her REAL Father, if they had ever met on the battlefield.

"You may go to mother's solar and take a break with the other women of the Keep," Mordred jab, making the blonde boy bristle in shame and humiliation. She couldn't help but smirk if he was going to be king, then she would make him at least a suitable one; a daunting task she knew but nothing worthwhile ever came easily. Of course, the fact that she instilled fear and obedience in him toward her meant she would be king in all but name.

Yes...

"Mordred! That is no way to talk to the future king!" Cersei admonished her daughter, coming from the opposite end of the hallway. The woman looked every inch the queen, with her golden blonde hair and piercing green eyes. Her beauty apparently only had grown as she aged.

"Mother," Mordred intoned with a slight tilt of her head but did not bow. She did hear the relieved exhalation behind her from Joffrey. Weakling.

The two blonde-haired beauties eyed each other: one a beautiful woman, the other a girl that was consider the jewel of the kingdom already.

Mordred really had nothing but disgust and contempt for her mother and both of her fathers. The only redeeming quality however was that her mother genuinely loves her children. But to think that she along with all of her brother and sisters were a product of incest was a constant reminder of her true origin.

Of course thoughts of her true origin lead her to think about her true father and her father's wonderful kingdom. Not the fucking cesspool that is King's Landling. If she had a copper coin for every scheme hatched here in the Red Keep alone, she'd be the richest woman in all of Westeros.

"Jon Arryn has died, your _father_ is beside himself with grief," Cersei made the statement as if she was casually observing the weather. Looking at her daughter again, she gave her a knowing look. "Perhaps you can cheer him up."

"Damn crybaby," Mordred rolled her eyes in contempt and saw the small smirk from her mother's lips. The people here were also a lot more emotional than the hardened men of Britannia. Why, Gawain barely even cried when Lancelot took out his brothers!

Nodding her head, she made for her 'father's' room to snap him from his funk before he started on his little whoring binge.

Cersei watched her daughter go and felt nothing but pride in her little lioness. The girl was the best of Jaime AND herself, perfectly combined. Mordred had her cunning and Jaime's ferocity in armed combat. If only she had been a boy! Then the throne would have been completely secure. She had a feeling that, if her daughter ever ended up as king, no one would ever be able to pry the crown from her hands. Mordred also had one other thing that was hard to come by for the rest of her children. Robert's attention.

From the shadows, Cersei had observed how her daughter had manipulated the king to what she wanted from an early age. The most audacious case of manipulation came on Mordred's name day, when a tournament had been held in her honor. Robert and Cersei had been discussing who best to wed her off to, to further strengthen their hold on the Seven Kingdoms. So it had been a shock to all when Mordred had declared for all to hear, after she had been crowned the Queen of Love and Beauty, that she would only marry if a man could best her in combat.

Naturally Cersei would not stand for that and neither would Robert. Yet that was when Mordred exploited Robert's weakness. Somehow, over the years, the little girl, as if planning for the very day of her nameday, had over four hundred gold coins of her own and slyly made a wager with her father.

She had challenged him and tweaked his nose with a wager. Robert, who was also quite fond of gambling, hated to lose, especially against such insolence. So she wagered that she could beat any three men of Robert's choosing and if they could defeat her than she would obey him without question and pack her bags accordingly.

Cersei remembered that scene clear as day. Robert had glared at his willful daughter. Her daughter had stared back unflinchingly doing nothing but dangling the gold purse coin in her hand. Robert had let loose a booming laugh and sent three of the Kingsguard squires, boys older than her by at least four name days, to duel his daughter.

To this day, Jaime swore it was not him that taught their daughter swordplay. Her strokes were too vicious, her strength surprising for someone of her frame. Clad in only chain mail, she had defeated the first squire with ease, humiliated the second, and only when Robert called her off did she spare the third. The words that she had uttered afterward made Robert noticed her from that day onwards.

_'Ours is the Fury, right father?'_

Never could Cersei ever imagined Robert's eyes beaming with pride in ANY of her children. His eyes shone with it that day for Mordred and he made the declaration. If anyone wished to wed Mordred, they would have to best her in combat.

Of course that was when Cersei's father, Tywin Lannister, decided to set his hand against her daughter. He had plans for Mordred; he had wanted to expand Lannister's influence through the Seven kingdom. In a move that surprised many, Mordred had confronted Tywin while he was talking to Robert about the girl's future.

Cersei consider herself brave, but against her father, even she falters. The confrontation between Mordred and Tywin had solidified the girl firmly in Robert's good graces and sent an enraged Tywin back to Casterly Rock.

So it had come as a surprise to her that as soon as Mordred had been able, she had distanced herself from her own mother. The distance increased with each child she birthed, hoping it would bring them closer together. Yet, while Mordred was beloved by her siblings, the girl's warmth had all but disappeared for Cersei. If not for her other children she would have been very distraught, instead now her firstborn lack of affection was only now a dull ache.

+++ King's Study+++

The door slamed open, making a grieving Robert to look up from his desk and see his favorite daughter entering.

"Go away, I do not have energy to humor you today, doe."

"Yet you will have enough energy to humor the whores of the city later?" Mordred replied bluntly to her fat oaf of a king, causing him to grow furious.

"YOU DARE SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT?!" King Robert Baratheon of the Seven Kingdoms rose to his full height and bellow at the smaller girl.

"I DARE!" Mordred roared back, not backing down from the fury of the king. She had faced King Arthur Pendragon; there is no Sovereign on this Earth that could cow her.

"I should strike you for your insolence, girl!" Robert began to stalk over to his daughter.

"So you fight like a woman now?" Mordred taunted haughtily as she began to retreat into the courtyard. "With empty threats and slaps? Come fight me as the renowned warrior you're know for if you have the guts!"

Robert was all but seeing red now and grabbed his war hammer and charged at his daughter.

At one point in time, Robert had been a fighter worth over twenty men. It was he who killed the Rhaegar in single combat. Now, he was older, fatter; whoring, eating and gambling had taken its toll on him. His daughter let him vent his rage for a few minutes before he began to tire out from the exertion. Slowly, the attacks tapered off and Robert backed away from the girl. Her face looked none the worse for wear; she didn't even look winded.

"Have you vented your fury?" Mordred asked in a neutral tone, her sword, stabbed into the ground looking at king of the seven kingdoms.

"... I swear, you will be the death of me one day," Robert muttered, as his fury, sorrow and sadness drained away.

"No, I think the disease you catch from your whores will do you in first," Mordred replied, and was rewarded with a booming laugh.

"You smart-mouthed runt, I can't wait for a man to finally shut it up when he beats you into submission," Robert grunted as he picked his war hammer back up and went into the study. Looking left and right, he saw his Kingsguard had not interfered. They knew better.

"If you can manage to stay away from your drinking long enough, you might get to see that day," Mordred shot back sardonically, as she gripped the king and let him lean against her.

"You might as well ask the sun not to rise tomorrow, or the moon to never appear again," Robert lamented and looked at his daughter, who really took after her mother in looks, fondly. Not for the first time, he wished she was a man so he could pass the throne on to her. Now, she would have been a worthy heir; even Jon had agreed.

"So, after you bury him, are you going to be finding yourself a new Hand?" Mordred inquired before she smirked. "Can it be me?"

"HAH!" Robert laughed at the girl and gave her a level look. "Don't you know the Hand cleans up after the king's shit? Are you telling me you want to clean up after my shit?"

"No, but with the position of the Hand, taking the throne from Joffrey should be easy," Mordred told her father, before adding , "and it would deny grandfather a position of power."

Robert grinned widely then, his friend's death no longer as hurtful as it once been. The fact that his daughter despised the Old Lion of Casterly Rock had been a surprise both to him and Jon Arryn. That she stood up against the old coot and made him leave sputtering in anger was one of his fondest memories to this day. She was truly his daughter.

"I wish, but the pricks on the councils would not have it; they would nag me to the ends of the earth if I did that," Robert explained in a dark tone of voice. Oddly enough, his daughter seem to care little for her mother, which was strange cause the woman clearly loved the girl. Took pride in the girl's achievement. "No, I think I have the perfect replacement for the Hand's position."

"Well, it was worth a shot," Mordred shrugged, and after having made sure that her 'father' was no longer in a funk, left. She knew the fat bastard would not have long to live. She had seen men like that before; no, there were too many forces conspiring to end the man, Jon Arryn had literally been the only one that was keeping the King alive. With him gone, if the new Hand is not up to the task, then Robert Baratheon would be dead within the year.

***Winterfell***

"Father, I think I am dying," Shirou Emiya, born Sansa Stark in this new world, announced to her father as she entered his study early before the castle had awakened. The expression of pure shock on his face would have been comical under any other circumstances.

"WHAT?!" Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, shouted as he got up to look at his pretty daughter, who looked far too calm after making such a declaration.

"I am dying, Father," Sansa-Shirou repeated again and sighed. It was a good run in her new life; she had tried to help as many people as she could, but her magecraft either did not transfer to or work in this new world. She had to build up her strength the normal way, with patience and time.

Eddard Stark, already at the girl's side, look over his obedient daughter with great concern, trying to find out why she would make such a proclamation when she looked perfectly fine.

"You don't any visible injur-."

That was when he saw it, her night gown had blood below the pelvis line. Eddard Stark's, veteran of t Robert's Rebellion, slayer of Ser Arthur Dayne, face paled as he knew exactly what was wrong with his daughter. After all he had went through this same situation when his sister first flowered.

"LUWIN!"

+++ Later that Afternoon+++

Shirou Emiya, born Sansa Stark, stared listlessly out over the castle walls as her brother played in the courtyard. She kept on replaying the morning over and over in her mind. Her face reddened in embarrassment. Shirou had never paid that much attention to biology in school and so when Sansa had what they called her 'flowering' she was caught unaware.

She decided that if she could only talk to one person before she died, it would be the stern father figure in her life. A man who truly loved her for all of her quirk, and a person that taught her how to balance trying to be a hero and being a fool. He and he alone taught her how cruel the world could be, yet how much good it still contained. So she would say her thanks before she departed this world.

All of which now meant jack when she found out what exactly happened to her.

_'Oh Sansa darling, it just means you are ready to be a mother now.'_

The Shirou part of Sansa recoiled in disgust at the thought, it was official, the reincarnated Shirou is now one hundred percent female. Proof of her induction into womanhood might still be on her bed.

"Ar- Are you okay Sansa?"

Sansa turned around to face her overprotective brother, Jon Snow. The boy, no, man now, looked worriedly at her. Giving him a small smile she nodded. "You should get down there soon, Bran and Robb were looking for you."

"Right, of course," Jon nodded as he gave his sister a hug before breaking it. "If you don't feel well, please get some rest. After all, we can't have the mistress of the kitchen be sick now can we?"

Sansa mock glared at her older brother. "So that what this was really about!"

"Well yeah!" Jon returned her playfulness in the same manner. "I don't think any of Father's bannerman will cause any trouble for fear of being banned from the feastdays."

Sansa huffed indignantly at her brother observation but inwardly was smug as smug can be. While Shirou's magecraft might not be with her, his skill in the kitchen and in other household duties were second to none. The master cooks in the kitchen were now mere extension of her hands. Being the daughter of the Lord of the North, it was unseemly for her to be cooking all the time, yet when she does, which would be twice a week, it was pure bliss to her. Granted the tools she had to work with were less than ideal, bu Emiya Shirou, Master Chef, will not be denied!

"And between you and me? I am pretty sure Theon's loyalty is firmly with our family now, the thought of missing one of your meals have caused him nightmares." Jon arched an eyebrow before kissing his little sister above her eyebrow.

Sansa accepted it and did not recoil anymore like when she was younger. It was another thing the Shirou part of her have come to live with: affection, open affection between family. Something Shirou never had with his father except for kind words. She liked this way better if she was honest with herself.

In about three years' time, Shirou would have been living as a girl for as long as Shirou had been alive as a boy. However, her life as a girl had already surpassed her memories of that life as a boy. It had been a strange thing and day by day, she felt that it was easier to think of herself as Sansa Stark. Still she had memories as Shirou before he was killed that fateful day in school by a spearman.

Of course Shirou had railed against her new life initially, but day by day, the pure love her family showered her with had gradually changed her. Perhaps that might be why she did not have the ability to use magecraft anymore. Shirou considered himself birthed during the Fuyuki fire. Any memories of the boy before that had been completely erased. That boy's life, with his dream and aspiration, had died with him on that school night.

Then the boy had been reborn into this new world. It was not the past as she originally thought, the entire landmass on the map was wrong. Gradually, the experience of this life began to even the scales of the memories of the boy from Japan. It had come as a complete surprise to her when exactly after ten years, she came to think of herself in the feminine pronoun. Her sudden sullenness that day had worried her family; they had tried all sort of way to get her to cheer up, to smile. Her father had gotten the best doctors in the land to come and look at her.

She knew they cared for and loved her, the knowledge had always been there, but the Shirou part of her, her other half, refused to let anyone in, refused to believe it was possible. However, she too was Sansa and a Stark and willed the other disbelieving half to accept her new family's affection, to feel it for what it really was... unconditional love.

After that day, she no longer considered herself just Shirou but that Shirou was her other half, his memories were real, his cooking skill had made her infamous through the northland. Her precision with the bow surpassed any archer in the North, and if she was to be honest, probably in the south too. Her sword abilities were decent, better than average but her build did not afford her much power between her strikes. Arya had received Needle from Jon; maybe she can get a Katana, a weapon from Shirou's world, fashion for her also. It would be smaller and easier for her to use than the western style swords they used here.

Perhaps maybe even two.

++++Six Months Later+++

"Here Taiga! Here girl," Sansa grinned as she tossed the ball at her newly named direwolf puppy which seemed to be about the size of a small dog... she wondered how big it could get.

"That's a dog, not a Tiger!" Rickon Stark, the youngest Stark in Winterfell corrected his sister. His own being named 'Shaggy Dog' was not that much better.

"It's Tai Ga, not Tiger," Sansa-Shirou countered having decided to name her Direwolf after her caretaker of old in an another lifetime. The Direwolves' mother had been found dead, choking on a stag antler, it's children left to fend for themselves.

It just so happened that when Eddard Stark had went north with her brothers to execute a Night's Watch's deserter that they found the puppies. The mage in Shirou, though not very good, was still knowledgeable enough to know that magic certainly existed in this world. The presence felt from the Godswood was proof of it. The fact that their ally the Baratheon house's animal was a Stag, and the Starks were wolves, was not lost on her.

She could not help but think that it was a warning sign of some sort.

"Sansa," Jon Snow, followed by Robb and Theon, called for her.

With a flick of her wrist, Taiga came to her at her beck and call, the wolf, like her old teacher was a big eater and would always demand anything she cooked as if it was expected of her. Her father had been outraged and her mother doubly so but like all things when it pertained to the kitchen, they gave into her wants. She pretty much held all of House Stark hostage as far as her cooking was involved and her demands were not too unreasonable. It really became simple.

Would you like to enjoy Sansa's cooking or stop Sansa from practicing Archery?

Would you like to enjoy Sansa's cooking or stop Sansa from learning sword play?

Would you like to enjoy Sansa's cooking or stop arguing over a minor quarrel over who stole whose sheep? That last one being from her father's bannermen.

Because the horrifying fact of the matter was that, Sansa was a nice girl, and obedient to a fault. However, if you angered her, she simply would stop cooking, along with giving the offender the silent treatment.

A silent treatment from Sansa alone might be bearable by itself, but when the children all teamed up to nag, it compounded the annoyance. Suddenly, the object of Sansa's desire seem very much like a petty thing to deny her. All in all, when Sansa wants something, Sansa gets it.

Jon smiled at his sister, who had never treated him as anything less than family. Despite Lady Catelyn's best effort to reinforce the fact that he was a bastard over and over again, his younger sister treated him like true family. In fact she had told the Lady Stark, that it simply did not matter to her. He swore he would protect her and make sure her husband to be will never hurt her in anyway. Robb and Theon also made the same oath in the Godswood with him.

"What is the matter that you have to bring Robb and Theon with you?" Sansa asked with a raised eyebrow. Her hand was resting on top of Taiga's head rubbing behind its ear.

"Father and mother just received a Raven, I believe they want to tell us something." Jon nodded as they escorted their sister through the central yard into the main keep.

Sansa noticed her Father's sad expression while her mother had a concerned look to her. Her father however seeing the arrival of his eldest children nodded. Without much preamble he bluntly stated why he wanted to see them.

"My friend, Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King, has passed away. The King is on his way here to visit me with the entire Royal family."

Sansa and her brothers shared a look. The king was coming here? Her brothers however looked excited at the prospect. After all, everyone heard of the Jewel of King's Landing. The Warrior Princess Mordred.

'Huh...now where have I heard that name before...' Sansa thought to herself.

***Essos, Volantis***

"Alright Pendra, go back home or else your wife will have my head!" Nakaro Moparis, his captain and employer shouted good naturedly to his best swordsman as they re-entered the city. The chuckles from the warriors around him made the blonde haired man redden, which only made the laughter worse.

Arturia Pendragon, born Viserys Targaryen, winced at his employer good natured call as he secured his spoils of war. His 'brothers in arms' gave loud bawdy encouragement along with whistles further making the former ruler of Britannia grit his teeth.

'Damn it! How could I have been so stupid!' Arthur mentally berated himself but sighed. His sister had been quite distressed when Baratheon assassins came for them three years ago. Her tears and worries were endless at being killed. Their would-be killers was a team of ten 'knights' and twenty mercenary.

His employer that he had been working for was tortured and killed. His co-workers and their family's throats slit in the middle of the night. Luckily Arthur had kept up his training and sensed the wrongness of the ambush. What followed had been a battle that he barely walked away from. They had used underhanded means to try and kill him, but he was Arthur Pendragon, and he would not fall to such false knights.

When the battle was over, all of his attackers were dead. He fled the port city with his scared sister. The girl had calmed down somewhat but was still shaken by the attacks. It wasn't until they reached Volantis that Daenerys decided that it was best if they posed as husband and wife for the foreseeable future. Baratheon and his ilk was looking for a brother and sister duo after all. Husband and wives were more common.

So Arthur, in an effort to calm his sister down, agreed. Unfortunately... the girl had yet to relinquish that title and refused to meet any suitor for 'fear of being found by assassins again.'

He didn't want to think unkindly of his sister, but Arthur was beginning to suspect there was something more going on than met the eyes.

Luckily Volantis was known for their sellswords and thanks to a recent Dothraki attack, he was able to prove how valuable his service would be. He sold his sword to the most honorable man of the lot and had been working as part of the city defenders to repel Dotharaki raids and local skirmishes. He was also not quite sure how but the men who he once answered to, now deferred to him. His sister said that it was his natural charisma that drew men to him and his action earned their loyalty.

He had to admit that the mercenary company he had joined, the Eagle's Brood, all gave him familiar looks, looks he was used to back in Britanna. They might only be two thousand strong, but they were made up of elite fighters.

At first, Arthur had done his job as a regular sellsword and followed orders, but if there was one thing that he hated it was inefficiency. It started with a few suggestion, then the result he got when he was put in charge of a group of five was noteworthy. With ten it was surprising, in a mercenary company, the more talent you possessed the better the pay. Eventually they gave him more responsibilities and in turn he finished their jobs more efficiently with little to no loss of men. Slowly, without realizing it, Arthur had turned them into an army with his 'suggestions' that were unmatched by very few mercenary bands of their size. In time they earned his trust and that of Daenerys. Being in such a mercenary group kept her protected quite well when he had to travel further for his work. His sister was protected and she was not bored as she had befriended the wives and daughters of his companions.

Funny how life worked out, from fleeing for their lives to surviving on their own only to find attainable peace in this strange land.

"Oh Arthur! Your home," a curvy housewife greeted from the door step of her home as she saw the blonde haired man. "Care to... visit for some refreshments?"

Arthur was taken out of his musings and looked at the woman. She was a lovely woman, younger than him by at least two years, and was looking at him as if he was a meal. This was not the first time, so with as much grace as he could he looked the woman straight in the eye.

"I am afraid I would have to decline, my... wife comes first, you understand?"

The shyly averted her eyes, as her face took on a reddish tint. The man was just so regal to her, so magnificent. The sight of him thrilled her in ways her husband never could and she wasn't the only woman on this street that felt that way. She could only gaze after the man as he walked toward his home.

At twenty one years of age even though Arthur's married, if in name only, it had not stopped the women of Voltanis from trying to bed him. His comrades envied how many women that were practically throwing themselves at him. Of course it was not strange to see why. He cut a dashing figure, his golden hair fell around to his neck, though he always kept it in a war bun now a days. His eyes were a crystal violet color, he was tall, well built, and the shape of his body when he had taken his shirt off on a hot days, had entered many ladies' fantasies.

Arthur had to marvel at how much different he looked now compared to when he was a female. If anything he was almost exactly as big as Lancelot, a far cry from the waif of the girl he had been. Life had been hard for the pair of siblings but now with his mercenary work, they were living comfortably. An honest living was not something he could afford to do with assassins dogging their every steps.

As he arrived at the steps to his home, he saw two of his six house guards snap a salute. The reason why his sister even had bodyguards was because he had requested it and offered part of his salary to hire their services. His Captain however, hired six Unsullied, eunuch warriors, to protect his sister around the clock at no additional charge, stating that with Arthur on their side, they made more money than most know what to do with nowadays.

Upon nodding his greeting to the warriors, he opened the door and was greeted by the sight of his sister sitting across the table from a fat greasy looking man with a bushy beard. Immediately his hand fell onto his sword, something the fat man noticed.

"Peace!" The fat man instantly raised his hand up in surrender.

His sister on the other hand got up and threw herself into his arms. Once again he winced at the fact that he needed to try and break up this farce of a marriage and get a good man for his sister. However his primary concern now was the fat man.

"Who are you?" Arthur glared at the fat man who appeared to quail under his gaze.

"Dragon's son indeed," the fat man muttered to himself before standing up. "I know who you are and I have been searching for you for quite some time."

Immediately, Arthur pushed his sister aside and drew his sword. It appeared they would have to move quickly once more under the cover of night. Of course that was after he silenced this man.

"Wait! I mean you no harm, son of Aerys!" The fat man blanched as he got on his knees. "I am Illyrio Mopatis and I am here to repay my debt to House Targaryen!"

"Brother!" Daenerys' voice cut in as she placed her hand on her brother's sword arm. When they were younger her brother had been slim, almost feminine like. Now at twenty one, her brother was tall, broad-shouldered, muscular. He was every inch the man she always pictured he would be. "He speaks true, he want to help us restore our house and the throne."

Arthur looked at his foolish sister who still dreamed of one day returning to King's Landing thanks to the story a certain knight told her. 'Damn you Darry!'

"If I can explain myself Your Grace, I have been indebted to your father and would see House Targaryen restored and Westeros under their just rule once more," the fat man, Illyrio, pleaded before he look at the box that had been on the table. "This is a token of my esteem Your Grace."

Arthur slowly approached the box and flipped it over to see three petrified dragon egg inside. Daenerys looked absolutely enthralled by them and the man appeared to try and smile in a disarming way. That just raised Arthur's sense of danger some more.

"Those are- dragon eggs," Daenerys spoke softly as she went over to the eggs and touched them.

"I am but a humble servant of House Targaryen, please let me serve them again," Illyrio bowed low in his fine robes.

"And you simply wish to help us reclaim Westeros out of the goodness of your heart?" Arthur asked skeptically. His face already showed that he had made his decision on what to do with the man.

"Of course my liege, I only ask to serve," Illyrio head remained bowed in subservience.

"Leave," Arthur began after a few moments of silence seeing the man shocked look. "And take your dragon eggs with you."

"Brother!" Daenerys exclaimed in shock.

"Our family had our chance," Arthur told Daenerys as he continued to look at the fat man before him. "We failed."

Illyrio blinked and suddenly really looked at the man before him. Suddenly he stood up, all pretenses of fear gone. "You truly are a dragon, Your Grace. I can see I erred in approaching you this way."

Arthur got into a defensive stance ready to cut down the fat man.

"It is true, that I would have liked to be riding on your coattails and make a fortune when you reclaimed the throne," Illyrio began in a conversational tone of voice; the switch startled Daenerys. "But, it is true that even if I do not get to benefit, I would like to help you restore House Targaryen if it is in my power. As I have said. I owe your house a debt."

Arthur however remained silent as he stared at the true face of the man and took his measure. The man appeared to know it too.

"Keep the Dragon Eggs, they belong to you to begin with," Illyrio bowed low. "Just know this Your Grace, a storm is brewing on the horizon. The King's Hand is dead and I will wager the King is not far behind. When that happens, the land will be torn asunder by war. Men will vie for the smallest ounce of power."

"And I need to know this, why?" Arthur questioned the man for the ulterior motive.

"Because, even after all this time, the people will still flock to your banner. House Martell has been searching for you covertly for years. As have Baratheon assassins. I divert them as much as I could from your trail. It was only due to their botched attempt on you three years ago that I was able to pick up your trail again."

Arthur set his jaw and ordered the fat man to continue with his eyes.

"If I could pick it up, it would not be long before House Martell does also."

"Not House Baratheon?" Arthur asked with a raised eyebrow, his sword now stabbed in front of him, his two hand resting on its pommel.

"I have a feeling House Baratheon will have other issues to contend with before the year is out," The fat man replied. Giving a third and final bow, he retreated to the door. "The players will come for you your majesty make no mistake."

"Players? What players?" Daenerys asked as the fat man left their home.

"The players in the game of thrones," Arthur replied as he exhaled. He looked at the dragon eggs and frowned. Too bad it wasn't fresh. Fresh dragon eggs made for a tasty treat.

"Brother!" Daenerys cried in alarm as she recognized her brother's hungry look anywhere. She hugged the dragon eggs to her bosom protectively.

"Bah, it's all dried out and tough anyway," Arthur assessed a moment later. Even petrified, it was still a good egg to eat... ah well, the things he did for his sister.

Arthur, frowned as his sister try to find a nice spot for the eggs by her bed. He felt a tug toward the eggs and judging from Daenerys expression, she did too. Maybe the eggs weren't as dead as everyone presumed it they were.

His mind returned to the fat man that was here earlier. There was no way, under any condition, that Arthur would ever bring his sister back to that forsaken land. She would be married, then he would be married, they will forget about the throne and live here happy and content away from the cesspool of the court. What little he saw of Westerosi politics when he lived among them for the first five years of his life, was sickening. His family also was sickening. At first he had been disgusted by the incest, but it did give him his sister. He would not want for her to not exist despite her circumstances.

That however did not extend to his brother, Rhaegar, the sane one. He could have turned things around, their father had only a few years left in his life at most. He could have redeemed their house but he doomed the kingdoms to war when he stole that girl. And all for what? Love?

Two Kingdoms he'd lost now, both as Arturia and Arthur, both destroyed by love. His brother deserved his fate. His sister-in-law, however, did not.

Word of what Gregor Clegane had done reached over here even in the Free Cities. From the rumors, the bastard raped her in front of her children, then killed her afterward before bashing his niece's and nephew's heads in.

Arthur's fist tightened when he learned the bastard had been given the highest honor of being a knight of House Lannister. These men of Westeros were no knights. If there was ever a reason that Arthur would ever want to return to Westeros, it would be to cut down the Mountain Who Rides. He owed his kind sister-in-law that much.

TBC:

AN: Thanks to deer-shifter for taking care of this chapter! Heh! It actually readable now!


	3. Chapter 2

Game of Thrones belong to G.R.R.M

Fate Stay Night belong to Type Moon

Special Thanks to The Deus Ex Machina! He went back and did work!

A Throne Nobody Wants

Chapter 2

*** Winterfell***

Her two older brothers had completely fallen for the Princess of the Realm.

'Literally,' Sansa thought wryly as she watched said princess dispatch Ramsay Snow, the bastard of House Bolton, with almost boring ease. Her two brothers were on their backs and unable to move, having been defeated earlier. How such a small frame could best men seemed suspicious to her but she sensed no magic. The Princess, Mordred, was just that good.

On a cool crisp Northern day, where the sky remained gray but clear, were five sprawling bodies surrounded by men of arms on both sides. Apparently the rumors of the Warrior Princess were not just rumors, she was legitimately good at fighting. As the princess turned her back to her opponent, sheathing her sword, the bastard of the Bolton fell to his knees and slumped forward. The princess never spared a glance, instead, she turned to face her father, their gaze locking.

Her two younger brothers cheered as the Bolton bastard was easily taken care off; their eyes shone while looking at the blonde princess.

"Damn it!" King Robert Baratheon growled as the final challenger for the Princess's hand in marriage was defeated. His daughter broke her gaze a moment before he was going to himself, he could not help but think she let him win their little staring contest. Which just pissed him off all the more. "Not even four moves!"

Sansa looked to the King and once more sighed. The Shirou part of remembered that even politicians in his time were fat and ugly. The fact that the King of the Realm, the man her father spoke so highly of, was a fat oaf of a man that only liked to drink and eat was very disappointing. This was supposed to be a time of knights, honor, and chivalry wasn't it? When men were real men and honor meant something, not the cesspool of the modern world politics. Yet... perhaps it had never been that different to begin with.

"I don't think any man can defeat my sister," Crown Prince Joffrey Baratheon spoke in a respectful tone to his fiancee at his left.

Sansa sighed once again but gave a polite smile to the prince. She was engaged. Her, Sansa Stark aka Shirou Emiya in another lifetime, was engaged to a damn prince in a fantasy kingdom! Unfortunately, she could not decline as that was not her right. If she had known she was going to be engaged, she might have made a run for it beyond the wall and lived with the wildings.

Of course... with her strength and stamina, chances were that she wouldn't have lasted long. That and she was pretty sure the men of Winterfell would ride out and never stop searching for her. She couldn't put them in danger for her own selfish needs and wants. That was not who she was, both Sansa and Shirou. Snubbing the King's offer here and now would put her family in danger.

Monarchy sucks.

"Damn it Ned, is that the best the North has to offer?" The King accused his friend, his fat face blustering and reddening. The Queen next to him looked livid when the King made the declaration that anyone can win the Princess's hand if they defeated her in combat. The shocker was that it mattered not if they were bastard or sons of lords. The only restriction was that they be no older then seventeen.

So for the past few days, after settling in, the would-be sons of lords and the bastards born of the North had battled each other, the final five battling the Princess. Her two elder brothers had been victors, Bolton's bastard was another, the final two being of House Manderly and House Karstark.

"They are young, your grace," Her father, Eddard Stark, replied next to the king but he appeared to be looking at the Princess on the field in a new light. "Though it appears she takes after you."

"Aye, that she does," King Robert sighed as he bellowed for more wine from his servant. Truth be told, there were some skilled boys, especially Ned's sons; but once more his daughter had bested all five finalist. Damn it!

"You seem displeased," Ned Stark observed of his friend, whom appeared to be quite disappointed that his daughter had prevailed.

"You don't get it Ned, I was hoping one of the lads can shut her up," The King replied as heshifted in his seat to be more comfortable. "Now I will never see her humbled..."

Eddard Stark was surprised by his friend declaration. He looked to the Queen and saw her content face, however, her eyes shined as she gazed at her daughter. No, the Queen couldn't hide her pride in her daughter but there was something else too. There appeared to be some kind of rift between the twin blondes with the way they were staring down at one another. Shaking his head, he turned back to Robert.

"So you wanted someone to best her in combat?"

"Aye, your son, true born or bastard was my hope but now... NOW, Ugh... Now I owe her five hundred dragons," Robert drank heavily into his cup and glared down at the girl. "I suppose you are quite pleased with yourself!"

"Very much so, I expect payment when we get back to King's Landing," Mordred declared as the corner of her mouth showed the beginning of a grin.

"You'll get your money you little..." Robert trailed off as he turn to his friend and excused himself.

The Royal Family followed suit while Sansa made her way to her two defeated brothers, who were now just back on their feet. Though recovering, their eyes trailed after the Princess as she left.

"Boys," Ned spoke up, making the two boys shift their feet uncomfortably. "You did well."

The two boys looked up and saw their father smiling at them. Ashamed, they stared back down at their feet.

"We were bested by a girl, father. We shamed House Stark," Robb was the first to speak up, unable to meet his sister or father's eyes.

Jon, as was his nature, remained quiet, but nodded his head in agreement with his brother. His eyes spoke of the same shame he carried with his brother.

"There is no shame in losing to her," Ned shook his head and placed a hand on his sons' shoulders. "She was simply better then you."

"It is as father's said," Sansa spoke up, also trying to comfort her brothers. She doubted that she could fair any better against the blonde princess. "Come, let me cheer you with with warm chocolate milk."

As per her suggestion, the two brothers' eyes widened and looked eagerly at their beloved sister. "Truly?" Robb asked with an almost disturbing look in his eyes. Jon, naturally, had a matching one.

Chocolate had been hard to come by, with most of the North not really knowing what it was, but a trip to Lannisport and the Essos market had yielded cocoa beans, which Sansa was able to cultivate, culminating in whole farmlands dedicated to her being own gardens. It had been a difficult process, even armed with Shirou's knowledge, had not yield much on farming knowledge. Thankfully, with resources from both sides of her, Shirou's knowledge and Sansa's dedication, she learned how; now they could drink Chocolate milk. Sansa grinned, Arya once tried to eat a cocoabean thinking it would be just as sweet but the bitter taste had left her poor sister crying. Since then, she had been able to make a variety of chocolates, the peppermint flavor was Arya's favorite.

"I'll bring it to you two when it is finished," Sansa smiled at her two brothers and saw their spirits lifted.

"Ahem," Ned Stark cleared his throat and looked away from his daughter.

"Of course you shall have a cup too, father, as is your right," Sansa grinned at the proud man's subtle hint that he wanted some too.

"I could never asked you to dirty your hand, your mother would disapprove," Ned protested but not very much. In fact it was almost funny, as he was trying not to sound stern.

"Do not worry about Mother, I am sure she wouldn't be to adverse to it," Sansa winked slyly to her father and made her way to the kitchen.

Ned sighed as he watch the jewel of the North leave him. He was beginning to believe his men, that his daughter was blessed by the gods. The ideas she had when it came to cooking was so bizarre that he was slightly intimidated by it. Yet whatever she bought, no matter what exotic thing she had concocted, they all end up tasting simply divine.

That in itself caused some problems, many of the Houses had wanted her as a bride, good respectable Houses, but was it so wrong that he wanted her to have the best in life? So when the engagement to Joffrey came up, she would be Queen of the Realm, that was the best she could get in her life. She would be beholden to nobody and once her husband had tasted her cooking he was certain not even the future king would try to gainsay her.

Sighing once more, he walked toward the keep. He still had to tell Cat about Robert's offer.

+++ Cersei +++

The Queen walked away elegantly, her head held high. The Kingsguard followed dutifully behind her. Her golden tresses continue to sway back and forth as she moved away from the competition ring and followed her husband inside Winterfell Keep.

'She knows!' Cersei mind shouted since they left King's Landing. Her daughter knows that Robert was not her father, worse, she KNOWS about Jaime and her... indiscretion.

All the way through the trip north, her mind was occupied by that little piece of knowledge, even as she had glanced at her daughter, who preferred to ride beside Robert.

How had Mordred found out and... worse. How much did she hate her for it? Cersei found the question playing over and over in her head. Of course the most pressing question was: how long had the girl known she was a product of incest?

She had been surprised when her father, Tywin Lannister, sent Uncle Kevan to King's Landing as part of the group for representing the Lannisters for Jon Arry's funeral. What had shocked her to the core, along with Littlefinger and Varys, was when he left. All of Robert's bastards in King's Landing and the town beyond, were gone taken to Lannisport along with other trade craftsmen. Uncle Kevan had not known why but had delivered a sealed message from her father.

Cersei remembered when she had opened the letter and read it's content. Her father had written that after Jon Arry died, Mordred has contacted him and set up a way to get rid of Robert's bastards without people realizing it until it was too late. Though her father did not outrightsay it, she knew her father knew, otherwise Mordred would not have succeeded in getting his assistance to cleanse the area of Robert's bastards under the guise of new opportunity. It was a more merciful fate than what she had planned with Littlefinger, the completely purging of all the bastards by assassin knives.

Yet in one fell swoop, Mordred had taken care of it. Even if Stark were to look into what Jon Arry issue, it wouldn't matter. There were no proof of Robert's bastards anywhere within the vicinity. As much as she loathed to admit it, her daughter had outplayed all of them. When had she gotten so good at the game? When did she even participate? Cersei had not talked to her daughter since she received the letter from her father. The look from Mordred was all to clear. She knew. She _knew_!

What was perplexing was Mordred's endgame. Mordred always had an endgame. Cersei had seen Mordred lead Robert by the nose too many time for it. Of course she thought that was a father being wrapped around his daughter's finger. The opening salvo by her changed everything. Petyr and Varys had been in seen whispering frantically for days. They knew about the bastards too, what was their plan for them? Did they think because her daughter loved fighting that she was stupid?

Mordred obviously loved her brothers and sister, though if she had to pick an order, she knew Joffrey would be a distant last. Joffrey on the other hand, worshiped the very ground his sister walked on and strived to be as great as her. Unfortunately, Jaime's skills was not what he had been blessed with nor her courage. Her son was easily frightened and quick to complain. The only person he dared not do that around was Mordred. The girl scared him.

Cersei recalled a time when Joffrey showed Mordred the unborn kitten that he cut from a pregnant cat in hopes of gaining her approval. What Mordred did to Joffrey had horrified her and, once more, gained approval from Robert.

_'Don't worry father, if he dies, you have a spare.'_

Mordred's words echoed in her ears. There had been so much blood... so much. However, her daughter had achieved what she had set out to do, Joffrey became a shell of the boy he once was, he could still be mean and petty but under his sister watchful gaze, it's excessiveness had been curbed.

So now she was fretting. Joffrey was her blood, her brother, and Mordred had shown little mercy. If she knew that she was conceived from incest, than what punishment was awaiting her and Jaime? What was her daughter's endgame?

Thankfully, being here at Winterfell had been a godsend, normally she would scoff at this place but being away from King's Landing meant that whatever network Mordred had, she would be cut off from. With Eddard Stark in the picture, a righteous, honorable fool, it just might stay her daughter's hand. At least until she could figure things out and find the best way to proceed.

For once, she supported Robert's idea on making Eddard Stark the Hand, the only other person that qualified would be Tywin or the Blackfish. Both of whom would more than likely help Mordred in her schemes.

Of course... there was the slim hope that somebody would defeat her here in the North. That way, she would have to married and stay in the North. It was, after all, her wager. Unfortunately, her daughter's skills only improved. None were her match.

Cersei could not help but feel conflicted about that too. One part cursing the weak Northerners, the other filled with pride by her daughter.

'Don't count me out of the game yet, daughter.'

+++ Volantis+++

Arthur knew he was dreaming. How did he know? Easy. He was in the body of his female self. Arturia Pendragon, in her familiar battle armor over her royal blue clothing overlookinga very familiar field. Camlann. In her dreamscape, it was not littered with the bodies of her dead soldiers. It was still a beautiful meadow, untouched by war.

"Viserys?"

Arturia turned around and saw a familiar man that she had not seen in over a decade in her new life. The man could only be describe as beautiful with his long silver hair, slim dancer like frame, and piercing violet eyes. He was the man who destroyed his own kingdom, who killed his own children as surely as if he had done it himself. The man who dishonored his vow. The man who would be her brother.

"Rhaegar," Arturia acknowledged as her eyes hardened against the man who made the realm bleed over a pretty face.

The man appeared surprised as he continued to gaze at her, his eyes wide and uncomprehending, there was even awed in it. "You are Viserys, my brother?"

"As loathe as I am to admit it, yes," Arturia said in a displeased tone of voice. In this form, Arturia's she only reached Rhaegar chest. She quite enjoyed Arthur's taller stature.

"Your... Your soul is that of a woman..." Rhaegar marveled as his eyes ran all over 'Viserys's' form with her shorter stature, blonde hair that rival that of any Lannister and green eyes like the purest of emerald, not to mention the golden aura she was exuding like a beacon to him. It was glory intangible, it made her beautiful beyond compare.

"You point being?" Arturia asked coldly as her emerald eyes bored into his amethyst ones.

Being of dragon's blood, the Targaryens loved shiny things. That was why there were so many legends of dragons hoarding gold. If Viserys had been born looking like this, Rhaegar would have held onto her possessively.

"You do no look pleased to meet one of your family."

Arturia blinked at the audacity of the dead crown prince. The man actually sounded hurt. "Please to meet the man that destroyed our family and ripped the realm apart? You'll have to forgive me if I can't help but view you in the same light as our father."

Rhaegar face now visibly displayed his hurt for all to see. "Our father was worse and you know it, what he did to mother..."

Arturia closed her eyes. She knew Aerys was insane, she had hoped Rhaegar proved not to be the same in that respect. "As bad as he was, you have proven to be just as bad when you abducted the Stark girl and raped her."

"There was no rape!" Rhaegar spat viciously glaring at his 'brother' with his violet eyes. "We were truly in love!"

Arturia did something she had rarely done when she had this body. Yet her time as Arthur and her little sister let her loosen her emotion more freely. She matched his gaze with a contemptuous one of his own. "Really brother? You were in love? Tell me, Brother. Did she still love you as much when her father was burned alive? Or did she declare her undying love when when you told her of how her brother strangled himself trying to help his father? Did that get her heart beating faster for you? Did she love you then, brother?"

Rhaegar looked as if he had been struck, guilt flashed across his face but so was resolve. "We. Were. In._ Love._ Judge us if need be, but love is powerful beyond all reason and it is with that love that I completed the prophecy. My song of Ice and Fire."

"Pro- You mean... you made the realm bleed for a stupid prophecy?!" Arturia shouted at her brother, her golden aura blazing outward touching his smaller silver one and brought him to his knees. "I'll say it again. You _are_ insane."

Rhaegar struggled to stand up but the presence that his brother exuded was almost suffocating in its power. "I never wanted the responsibility! I-If only you had been born first. You would understand what I had to do to ensure the realm's survival!"

"As much as you tried to rip it apart, last I heard, Westeros was doing just fine without Targaryen blood on the Iron Throne," Arturia replied as she walked closer to her brother, forcing him to stay on his knees.

Looking up at his 'brother' again, Rhaegar's defiance blazed as he struggled to overpower the golden aura. Eventually he was spent and sagged his shoulders in defeat. "I did not wish our meeting to have gone this way."

"What other way could it have gone, brother," Arturia was in front of the silver hair man now looking down at him. "I despise you."

"And I deserve it," Rhaegar agreed truthfully. "I was so secure in the prophecy, that I never imagined I could be killed, nor that my love would grow to hate me. It was all for the song..."

There was silence as the golden king looked down at the fallen prince. How long the silence stretch for? Arturia couldn't tell, only that her brother was now shuddering, making small, choking sounds.

"I tried to find Elia and the children but I could not, nor could I find my beloved Lyanna," Rhaegar sounded broken as he looked up to his little brother. "Why can't I find them? Why can't I apologize for all the pain they suffer?"

"Because they went to a better place than you, brother," Arturia responded to her brother immediately. Ever so slowly, she started feeling pity the man that was her brother for five years. Her eyes softened, "Tell me why you came to me in this... dream."

Rhaegar steeled himself and stood to his full height now that his brother presence had softened. "The Other are moving. You need to go back to Westeros and rally the Seven Kingdoms."

Arturia knew of the Others, the great enemy, the people nowadays assumed that it was a myth, but she did not so lightly dismissed them. After all this world was different, the magic was still here, muted somehow, but still humming in the air.

"I do not believe I am the Prince that was Promised, he died at the Trident," Arturia observed coolly and saw Rhaegar flinch before looking defeated.

"No... but you are powerful, and people listen to you, you are a leader. Take the crown and lead them once more."

"There is no sword to pull a stone from here brother, they will not follow me," Arturia smiled a bit at the memory of Caliburn. The expression on her brother's face clearly showed that he had no idea what she was referring to, which meant that he was stuck in this world or the souls of this world can only stay in this world. Merlin would have loved this.

"Brother, they will, the Usurper will die soon, he will drink himself into an early grave, the Seven Kingdom that we worked so hard for will be broken soon. They will need a strong leader to unite them, you can be that leader."

"I have no interest for the petty squabbles of the court anymore. I will not play their games," Arturia replied before she turned her back to her brother. She felt his resignation and his presence slowly fading away.

Once more there was silence over the fields of Camlann.

"You can stop hiding now."

Arturia look to a nearby tree to see a female figure that had been hiding revealed herself. Clothed in a simple blue dress, her raven black hair, upbraided, with her grey-blue eyes gave her a wild exotic look, accentuated by her pale white skin.

"Should I address you as... Your Grace?" the woman asked politely as she approached the Once and Future King of another world.

"Lyanna Stark," Arturia concluded, having heard about what she looked like once. From the looks of it she appeared to be barely fourteen. A child really.

"Your Grace," Lyanna tried her best to curtsey but it was poorly done.

"Arthur is fine," Arturia said. Looking at the girl, she was not that beautiful, certainly not enough to be this world's Helen of Troy. "Why is yet another dead person speaking to me? Why not your family members?"

Lyanna sorrowful eyes looked away from the kingly blonde and sighed. "Thanks to our bond in blood, yours is the only presence that is powerful enough to hear me, or rather, us. I could not have bothered you otherwise. I know how much you despise me."

"Did he abduct you?" Arturia asked looking at the girl. Her shamed face looked spoke volumes. She found herself unable to feel any sympathy towards the two. She might have felt some had Lyanna truly been abducted but her expression said otherwise.

"I was a stupid girl whose head was full of love, who always said I never needed princes but when one came for me, I acted like any other empty headed girl did and fell in love," Lyanna spoke softly, her tone full of regret and sorrow. "He made me feel special, told me I was special, that I was going to help save the world. That he could give me freedom from betrothal and let me do as I please."

Arturia glared at the girl, trying to muster up the same hatred and anger she had for Rhaegar, for this girl before her. But she found she could not. The girl genuinely seemed to regret her actions. "You are not the first girl to fall for the empty promise of a prince. It happens, quite frequently."

"I thought I was different," Lyanna chuckled in a self depreciating way. "And it only cost me my brother and father for me to realize; I am no different then anybody else."

Arturia looked on as the girl began to break down, tears fleeing her eyes but she was not wailing. Eventually she composed herself while dabbing her eyes.

"So, why did you seek me out? We have no relation that I am aware of," Arturia said as she looked at the girl who finished wiping the tears away from her eyes.

"That is where you are wrong, you have a nephew, he is my son," Lyanna admitted as she looked up at the blonde girl. She wondered why the crown prince had a girl soul but she did not care. She only came here to beg a request from this girl born a man.

"You and Rhaegar..." Arturia began before she realized the implication. There was the future king of Westeros right there, not her.

"Yes, we 'conceived' a child," Lyanna replied bitterly. "I was already with child when news of Brandon and my father reached me. I never let Rhaegar touched me again afterward. I hated him. Hated him for his lies. His broken promises. Most of all I hated myself for being stupid but I could not hate my son."

"It is a poor mother who does," Arturia decided to give words of comfort after all. The girl, unlike her brother, truly was sorry of her actions. She understood its impact. "So what do you want from me? I can barely take care of myself and my sister."

"I beg to differ," Lyanna countered as she looked on at the blonde before her. "I cannot see the future but I do know that the Long Night is upon us. Winter is coming. I would beg of you, if you can, should you go over to the Seven Kingdom, please, take care of my son, take him back with you... give him a real chance at happiness even if it is away from Winterfell."

"I'll... consider it." Arturia replied and was hugged tightly by the woman that tore the realm apart.

"Thank you Arthur," Lyanna whispered in the blonde's ear as he slowly woke up.

+++Volantis, Pendra Residence+++

Arthur woke up to see his sister's lips on his own. With great care he gently pushed his sister away and stood up glaring at her.

"Dana!"

"Husband," Daenerys Targaryen grinned as she saw the red flustered face of her beloved brother.

"It's bro-" Arthur began to protest but stopped himself. You never knew who could have been within earshot. "Wife. Did I not ask you to never wake me up that way?"

"Yes, but as your wife, I ignored your request," Daenerys grinned as she enjoyed the sight of her shirtless brother. Was it her or was it getting hot in here?

"I am going to eat something and then I shall be off to work," Arthur finally voiced as he shot his sister a final warning glance before stalking off. His glare no longer work on her anymore but it made him feel better.

"Of course husband."

After Arthur's midday meal, he put on his elegantly cut armor, a hybrid of the one he use to wear in Britannia and opened the door just in time to see his company leader about to knock.

"Captain Belidos? What are you doing here?"Arthur asked seeing his company commander here of all places.

The Captain of the Eagles Brood was a man in his mid forties and still fit. His skin was dark but he had purple eyes like many of the people here in the Free Cities.

"Arthur," Belidos spoke in High Valyrian before he stepped aside and showed a man with tanned skin and a trimmed beard flanked by two exotic women behind him. Behind them was a company of the elite fighters in the Eagle's Brood. "These people paid us a lot of gold simply to talk to you. I'll let you talk but if you need them to be silenced..."

If the man was disturbed by the threat he didn't show it. In fact he looked almost pleased. That only made Arthur feel more cautious.

To Arthur and his commander's surprise, the man bowed low before replying in High Valyrian also. "I swear by the Seven who are One and the Old Gods, I would never harm him or his sister."

Immediately Arthur hand went to his sword but the man, to everyone's surprise, kneeled and put his right fist over his heart.

"My name is Oberyn Martell of Dorne, your majesty, we have been searching for you for two years."

Arthur did not know why but he was all but certain his idyllic life with his sister was about to get a lot more complicated.

END

AN : This chapter has been edited! Woot! Omg, it's soo clean now... SO CLEANED~~~~~


	4. Chapter 3

Game of Thrones belong to G.R.R.M

Fate Stay Night belong to Type Moon

Special thanks to Cheeser! He's back! That's right he edited this in his own free time.

A Throne Nobody Wants

Chapter 3

***Volantis, Daenerys***

_'Brother...'_

Daenerys once more sighed in her brother's bed, inhaling his scent. She missed him as surely as the sky could miss the sun and stars. Her brother had been gone for a month now, back to the land of Westeros. Very few things could take him away from her side for this length of a time, but a blood debt was one. There was only one person that her brother had ever sworn a blood debt against: Gregor Clegane, the one they called the Mountain who Rides.

She had no doubt that her brother would defeat the feared Lannister knight. He was her brother after all! She had seen him practicing, training. In her mind, her brother was the greatest fighter in all of the known world. Still, she had been disappointed when she was left behind. Unlike her brother, she could not pass for anything but Targaryen blood. In fact her brother and her features were so different that it was surprising they shared the same mother at all, but Ser Darry had confirmed to that be true.

_'Brother...'_

The Dorne were still loyal to the crown, prince Oberyn of Dorne confirming as much. Her brother had been surprised but she could tell that the Prince of Dorne and his 'Sand Snakes', as he introduced them, had been very impressed with her brother. Who wouldn't be? Her brother could have been king if he wanted to, of that she had no doubt. What, did they think her brother would be some Beggar King going around demanding people to help them just because he was royalty? Her brother had instilled in her a very firm set of working ethics as they grew up.

Never ask someone to do anything you wouldn't do yourself. She had seen him fight with the best of them, his companions in the Eagle's Brood had spoken of how Arthur would always be at the fore front of any battle, the rock for the men to rally around. To hear them speak of her brother with awe filled her chest with overwhelming pride.

_'Brother...'_

The mercenary company was as good as his, they no long even considered themselves Sell-swords. In just a few short years, her brother had gained complete ownership of the Eagle's Brood. He was just too dense to realize it.

Of course... he was also too thick and dense to realize that there was no way in any life that she would be annulling their marriage. She belonged to him as surely as he belonged to her. That was the Targaryen way so it was frustrating how he refused to take what was his by birthright! The wives that she associated with spoke of how she grew more beautiful every day. She could see desire fill men eyes whenever she walked the market place and even the Eagles that guarded her constantly gave her admiring glances from time to time. Yet her brother had refused to touch her and kept bringing up possible suitors for her hand!

_'Brother you idiot!'_

She'd never take another man to her bed. It was her brother or nobody at all. That was why she had a plan. It wasn't very honorable but honor was her brother's thing. She looked to the table and saw the flask of the strongest aphrodisiac in all of the Free Nations. It had taken her a while to discreetly inquire about it but her Unsullied body guards had done so without question.

Pursing her lips and brushing a lock of silver hair from her face, she smiled. When her brother got back, they would be true husband and wife. After all, there was no way her brother would reject her after he had bedded her, his code of honor would never allow it.

_'I will not be denied either brother.'_

*** King's Landing, Cersei***

While the small council was in session to bring their new Hand up to speed, the Queen could be seen elegantly seated, her thought a mystery to all present.

Cersei was frustrated, sexually frustrated, and it was ALL Mordred's fault! The girl knew of her and Jaime relationship, of that there could be no denying now. Thankfully, her daughter never confronted her about it, but during their stay in Winterfell her daughter had shadowed her. She was certain of it!

Oh the girl made it seem like she had casually found her and Jaime alone, but she knew! Whether it was walking next to Jaime on the lower floor and seeing Mordred looking in from a window or being alone in the woods with Jaime, only to have Mordred barge into the forest with the excuse of looking for her arrow. The twins had been effectively stopped from pursing anything amorous.

She wasn't alone in her frustration. Jaime had been showing signs of extra stress in the past few days. He had been a lot more aggressive lately in everything he had done but masked it better than she did. The closest they had come to being able to release their pent up lust was when they made their way to the isolated tower in Winterfell Keep. Yet, somehow, her daughter had beaten them there! They found the girl in the company of two of the younger Stark children. How had the girl known?!

Cersei was taken out of her thoughts when Robert laughed again, the booming sound saturating the room. Putting on her best facial expression she turned to look at her lord husband.

"By the grace of the Seven Ned, You becoming the Hand was the greatest thing that could have ever happen to this shit hole of a kingdom!" King Robert Baratheon, first of his name, laughed again jovially. There was an excited gleam in his eyes as he looked to his newly appointed hand.

"I do admit, this tourney seems to be unprecedented in scale at the least, and it should bring a lot of revenue to the kingdom itself," The Master of Coins, Petyr Baelish , a scrawny man with a trimmed beard agreed.

"By the Sevens, Ned! Can you imagine all of the best knights in the entire Seven Kingdoms, and warriors from the Free Cities here for your tourney?!" Robert boom again looking to his friend.

"It is a great honor," Ned shifted uncomfortably in his seat on the small council. The man was too stern and grave looking by half yet, he was the only one among them that had honor. Of that Cersei could attest to. They'll swallow him whole within months.

"The Dorne contingent would be here tomorrow as well as those from Reach. There no way Mace was going to let those fucking Dornish cunts out do them!"

"Robert!" Ned Stark chided his friend but nothing could be dampened his friend's mood.

"And already the so call Knights from the Free Cities are here, my god! This is like the grandest tourney in existence!"

"We just received words that Lord Tywin is sending a larger contingent here to represent House Lannister and the Tully's were coming too when they learn of the gathering. The first time since the rebellion it appeared all seven kingdoms would be at King's Landing in full force your majesty," Varys, the Master of Whisper announced, reading a message.

"And which of your little birds told you about that?" Petyr asked smoothly, his tone portraying his tension.

"Oh, there are so many, I am not sure which one myself," the perfumed eunuch laughed away lightly before he turned to the king.

"I am going to join in the jousting and the melee too. It's time to show them what the King of the Seven Kingdoms is really all about." Robert said suddenly.

Cersei could see the wide alarm in all of the gathered people faces. Robert had once been a great warrior, but he was no longer the same man she married. Still for propriety sake, she had to make an effort to appear wifely if nothing else.

"My love, perhaps it is best you not...join. It would be unfair for the King to join after having such a clear advantage over everyone else," Cersei tried to intone as much affection into her voice as possible. It wasn't hard, she just imagine she was talking to Jaime.

"No way in the Seven Hells woman! I will be joining and you will let me have this Ned," Robert threatened, his face beginning to redden, a sign that he had made his mind and was set in his intentions.

Cersei sighed and beckon a servant closer to her. With a quick whisper, the servant nodded and left searching for the person that could reign in Robert when he was like this, in the mean time she enjoyed watching Eddard Stark fumble his way around Robert, trying to find a way to talk him out of his folly diplomatically. A comical sight really.

Varys and Littlefinger also chimed in to talk the king out of his folly but it appeared his 'warriors spirit' have been aroused and an aroused Robert would never take no for an answer. She should know.

The squabbling continued a bit more between Robert and Eddard while Cersei sip the wine in her golden goblet.

"Damn it, Ned, I am king and I am telling you drop the matter, there is no way anyone will de-"

Anything Robert wanted to say was halted as the door opened and in strolled Mordred looking beautiful in her Lannister red dress and her hair braided in the northern style. It made her stand out from the southern ladies of the court and exotic at the same time.

_'The Sansa girl must have done it for her.'_

"Princess," Eddard stood up as did the rest of the council to greet the crown princess of the kingdom.

"Damn it woman, you had to call her here didn't you?" Robert growled as he glared at Cersei. "Well, I'll have you know there is nothing even Mordred 'King's Bane' could say that would stop me from joining!"

Cersei smirked when she saw Mordred bristle. She did not know why but that little nickname for Mordred by her husband, appeared to really needle the girl. Mordred and her made eye contact briefly and exchanged a look before her daughter turned to the King's Hand.

"Perhaps Lord Eddard, you can tell me what is going on here? Your daughter is making this wonderful new dish called... Pete Zah and it's simply smelling divine right now."

Cersei blinked as she saw the Lord Hand's eyes gleam and his hand twitched as if wanting to wipe something from his mouth but present company made him reserved. There was no need for Mordred to elaborate on which daughter it was that was cooking. It could only be that sweet red headed child that was her son betrothed.

Cersei was used to good food but what the Stark girl could do put every royal chef to shame. Tyrion, her disgusting dwarf brother, had been all but slobbering over the girl's cooking. Truth be told, a small part of her wanted to join them, but royal decorum had to be maintained.

Shaking her head lightly, she looked over to Mordred who nodded as Lord Stark explained the problem. Robert had his arms crossed, not unlike a petulant child while the other two council men in the remained silent.

"So what you are saying is the big baby want to join in a fight that is way out of his league but is too stupid to realize it," Mordred summed up what Lord Eddard Stark told her in a single sentence. Cersei smiled at the flabbergasted look on the man face. He would have to realized that Mordred somehow have become an unofficial member of the small council.

Why, the fact that Mordred decided that a great way to own revenue was taxing Petyr whore houses was a particularly satisfying moment. Robert, Jon Arry, and Varys had agreed and the motion was passed. Back to the matter at hand, she could see Robert fury rising.

"Watch your mouth you little runt, I am KING HERE!" Robert bellowed at his 'daughter' and slammed his fist on the table.

"Then ACT LIKE IT!" Mordred roared in return and also slam her hand on the council table as father and daughter glare at one another.

Mordred was the first to recover and scoffed scornfully at the King before turning to Lord Eddard.

"Let him join, I'll join his same bracket and unhorse him myself," Mordred began and saw Lord Eddard appeared shocked. "As for the Melee, let him, I'll eliminate him first and he'll be safe on his merry way while the Kingdom can laugh at the minute man king."

Cersei drank the wine in her goblet, noting how sweet it tasted, especially in the company of the slack-jawed Hand of the King staring at her daughter.

Robert was getting redder and redder in the face as he glared a hole into his daughter. "Wh... WHY YOU LITTLE-!"

"Five thousand Dragons say I unhorse you in the joust and another five that I take you out of the melee in under a minute," Mordred cut in, causing the King lose his blustered.

Even Varys and Littlefinger stayed out of this, Cersei smirked. Mordred had always won any wager she had against Robert. It gotten to the point where anyone that bet against Mordred where Robert is concern would be called 'sucker bets'. By now, the girl had won over 40,000 Dragons from Robert alone with Robert never being able to win once against her.

'_Lannister cunning,_' Cersei smiled into her cup, it wouldn't do for Robert to see her laughing at him.

Robert's fury was wordless as his mouth move to say something but not sound came out. Finally, after a great deal of mouth wagging, he calmed down. Then her had a twinkle in his eyes that made her concern, Cersei noted that Mordred also appeared concern. Robert rarely thought but when he did, it was a surprisingly good idea. Good thing he never thought often.

"Okay, fine. The royal family will exclude themselves from the tourney," Robert said suddenly as he viciously smiled at his 'daughter.

Mordred eyes widen and glared at the man. "Why of all the childish- Just because you can't join you are saying I can't either?!"

"You are the Princess of the Realm, act like it," Robert replied in a taunting voice as the blonde girl visibly began to tremble in rage.

"Why you fat little fu-"

"_Unless_, you fight by my side in the Melee," Robert offered suddenly. "I can still lift my Warhammer, and you have to promise you not come after me until we get half of the opponents down."

Mordred appeared to think about the offer for a while before she shrewdly countered Robert offered with one of her own. "Fine, but we enlist the Kingsguard too. And as soon as I can, I am taking you out of the fight."

Robert grinned. "You certainly can try."

Cersei saw Eddard was about to say something and sighed before walking up to him as father and daughter began to hammer out the detailed of their melee strategy. Placing a gentle hand on his wrist, she led him a bit away.

"It's a better compromise than the one we had."

"What do you mean, he's putting himself in danger," Ned whispered in a low voice to the Queen as he looked to the father and daughter duo.

"No he _had_ put himself in danger when he wanted to join the melee alone and the jousting. Now, he will be entering with Mordred and the Kingsguard. They won't let any harm come to him and after the twentieth defeated person. Mordred will betray him and take him out of the fight. The Kingsguard will disqualify themselves right afterward."

"I am not sure, it seems dishonorable somehow," Ned voiced his opinion again but Cersei could only purse her lip at the stubborn man.

"Like I say, it's a compromised. This is the way the game is played Lord Hand, you will never quite get your way," Cersei smiled slightly before turning around to walk out of the council room.

A moment later Jaime was behind her, she could feel the raw sexual tension between them as they walked together in silence. Now was the time to get some find some alone time with her brother to-

"I see you guys are taking a lovely stroll, mind if I join?" Mordred appeared suddenly behind Jaime, startling the Kings guard.

_'I hate you!'_ Cersei thought unkindly as her daughter walked in line with her step.

+++ The Hand's Tower +++

Lord Eddard Stark, Warden of the North was in his study when a light knock sounded at his door.

"Come in."

Sansa peaked her head in first, her red hair framing her pretty face as she gave her father a gentle smile.

"What is it?"

Suddenly, his daughter presented him with the divine dish known as Pizza. It was a thick hearty slice that took up the plate. The dish was topped with cheese, meat and over vegetables found in King's Landing. And it smelled simply divine.

_'Damn it Ned, be stoic, be stoic!'_

"For you father," Sansa beamed as she place the tray on the table for her father.

"Thank you," Ned replied firmly in his monotone gravelly voice. _'The cheese is melted... it's fresh from the oven._ _I love you Sansa.'_

Arya appeared a moment later in the door way holding a cup of wine to for him to wash it down with. His youngest daughter beamed at him. He thanked the Old Gods every day that his daughters got along very well though their skills were vastly different. In terms of a lady's skills, Sansa surpassed Arya by a wide mile. However, in terms of Martial skills, Arya was the better sword man and rider, while Sansa is the better archer. He had once seen her put an arrow between a rabbit eye from one hundred yards away. Arya was skilled at the bow but Sansa was ungodly. Her nock and draw time was half of many of his expert bow men.

"Eat it father, while it's fresh," Sansa prompted in a tone that brook no argument.

His daughter was sweet by nature but by the gods if you did not eat her food the way she wanted you too... The frosty glare, the steel behind it... He had to suppress a shudder. Easing his paper work to a side he began to eat the large slice of 'pizza'.

By the Gods, he was going to miss his daughter when she stayed here. He swore if Joffrey mistreat his daughter he would cut the boy's head off himself.

"Where is Bran?"

"He's being instructed by Princess Mordred along with Prince Joffrey," Sansa replied immediately.

"Princess Mordred said Needle is not suited to her style of combat!" Arya pouted as she went to the chair in her father's room and sat on it. Ned remembered that Needle was the rapier that Jon gave her before he went to the wall. "It's not fair!"

"I agree sister," Sansa spoke up causing her little sister to pout some more. "But I am like you in that aspect: nimble and fast."

Ned kept himself respectable as he already ate half of the slice of Pizza while the girls were engaging in talks.

"Father," Sansa said suddenly looking at her father. "I was wondering if I can get permission from you to help me commission a couple of weapons."

Ned stopped and raised an eyebrow at his daughter. "What kind of weapons? Short swords?"

Sansa looked over to her father and took out a parchment sheet to hand it to her father. "Here."

Ned opened the delicately folded paper and looked at the weapon drawing. He stared at the sketches, attempting to make sense of what he was seeing . It was not the straight blade, in fact it appeared curved, like a saber but not quite. From the image, it looked thin like Arya's own blade, yet it was clearly marked to be sharpened on one side. The hilt was different, it was flat and circular, and from the instruction, Sansa wanted it made of wood.

Still, it was not a war weapon and if the blade was that thin, then it would bounce off of armor.

"It's very well traced, where did you copy it from?" Ned took in the professional flawless detail of the blade work.

Sansa blushed but shook her head. "Nowhere... I created myself."

Ned smiled but he really couldn't deny his girl anything. She did so much and never asked for anything in return, the fact that she have done usually mean it was important to her.

"Okay, I'll tell Syrio to help you find a smith to make the weapon since it appeared to be of a similar type."

"Thank you," Sansa said politely and hesitantly hugged at her father's neck. He remembered a time when the girl never display any open signs of affection. Yet, eventually when she realized that her open display of affection made her family happy, she began to do so more and more.

"Ahem," Ned cleared his throat as he handed the paper back to Sansa. "How are you two enjoying King's Landing?"

The two sister eyes each other but it was Arya who spoke up first.

"It stinks father, I mean the smell is so strong on some days, it's not like Winterfell at all!"

"I agree," Sansa pursed her lips. Suddenly she had a weird look on her face. "I guess, the best way to help everyone is to be Queen and introduce sanitation..."

Ned was a bit surprised by her musing but saw her shaking her head, a resigned expression on her face. Truly she was not ready for marriage but then again, what girl was? He remembered when he went to replace his brother Brandon to wed Catelyn. She wasn't any more pleased with him than he was with her. After all, he had loved Ashara Dayne and been forced to marry her out of obligation. He also worried about his daughter's compulsion on saving everyone. It was not as bad as when she was a child but still still think of others before her. She needed to be selfish befitting a girl her age. Arya certainly was.

"Anything else? Did the kitchen staff take issue with your, creating your dishes?"

Sansa suddenly blushed red and looked away. Arya on the other hand eyes gleamed.

"They call her the Queen of the Kitchen!" Arya chirped pleased to see her sister face reddening.

"My My, Your Grace," Ned chuckled as he finished eating and as his daughter taught him, to wipe with a napkin. "So soon already, there still a few years yet before you have to marry Prince Joffrey."

Sansa could only blush in embarrassment.

"If you need anything feel free to let me know, now I thank you for the meal but run along, I have Hand business to attend to and then of course... there the tourney a week from now."

Arya seem excited about the prospect while Sansa just looked on curiously. "We get to go right? We'll get good seats?"

"Right next to the King and Princess I've been told," Ned chuckled, Ayra, Lyanna twin in this life. So willful, so eager to play with swords instead of dolls and dress. Though Sansa was like that to a degree but she always been the perfect one once assigned a task. There was no wildness in Sansa like Arya but there was steel, unyielding steel.

The two girls gave him a lady like curtsey, or in Arya case, she tried, and left him alone to his thoughts. He was still lost as to how things work in the capital but he was certain of one thing. If he needed Robert to listen to him, then he needed to get Mordred on his side. His friend had gotten a lot more stubborn in his ways with old age, yet Mordred, with the same fury as Robert face him head undaunted not caring if he was the king.

There was something fishy about Jon Arry's death and in the notes that he found of the former hand, he spoke glowingly of Mordred. If he could get her on his side, maybe that would bring him one step closer to finding out if Jon's death was foul play or not.

+++Starfall, Dorne+++

Arthur and his battle company, fifty of the most elite fighters of the Eagles Brood, prepared for their march north to King's Landing. Thanks to his input, he was now armored in all black, much like Lancelot one had been. In order to hide in plain sight, he had cut his long hair and instead, adopting a close cut shave much like Oberyn but with wilder curls rather than a flat top.

The Prince of Dorne had left a week earlier while Arthur was waiting for the smith to finish his armor. His company had stayed behind with the two Sand Snakes to show them the way. The finest Dornish steeds hiving been given to him as a gift from the ruler of Drone.

His presence in Dorne was kept secret, only Prince Doran had met him. The ruling Prince had been surprised that Arthur was not interested in reclaiming the throne. However, when he learned of Arthur's real reason for being back in Westeros, the man had embraced him and spared no expense on helping Arthur disguise himself a tourney knight.

Oberyn and Doran expressed surprise on Arthur's knowledge of tourney rules and weaponry, but Arthur only smirked. He had squired with his brother Kay in another life as Arturia for years, he knew a few things about tourneys.

"The men are ready Captain Pendra," Tiroal, elite fighter of the Eagle's Brood, informed his captain.

"Remember not to call me that. Arthur Sand is who I am at the moment," Arthur finished sharpening his blade. "I am but a hedge Knight that made his money in Essos."

"Of course... Ser Arthur," Tiroal slaluted and finished packing up.

As Arthur mounted his horse he was surprised to see Doran and a beautiful woman with dark hair waiting by the rest of his battle group. He tilted his head curiously.

"We are here to wish you luck in getting vengeance for my sister," Prince Doran announced softly.

"And you will have it," Arthur nodded as he saw the woman staring at him. "And this is...?"

Doran grinned and looked slyly to the woman next to him. "This woman is my daughter, Arianne, perhaps it's been too long for you to remember but she was your betrothed."

"Oh," Arthur muttered as he could feel the pretty woman eyeing his physique up and down.

"My Prince," Arianne curtseyed before Arthur perfectly and with perfect grace. "May you have the Mountain's head with you the next time we meet."

Arthur nodded as he easily mounted the steed and made his way out with his company. He spared a few thoughts for his sister but was confident that the Eagles could protect her. It had been years since he'd been in King's Landing and he wondered what surprises would await him there.

TBC!

Up Next: I dunno!

AN:

First off thanks for the encouraging reviews! I quite appreciate it. As for what is my over all plan? Well...

Yeah... I think I am going to ride this story until the wheels fall off. Those that know me, know that I tend to write in spurts. Making it short makes it easier for me. I am still writing it with humor intended but , why not plot right? Why the hell not? So yeah... Till the WHEELS fall off baby!

Keep in mind I am still gonna have shenanigans happen. I am also of two view about Robert. He turn into a fat fuck but he was at one point in time a great leader enough to lead a rebellion and overthrow the dragons. As for his relationship with Mordred, if you haven't guessed it already, she's his favorite and he genuinely love her. In the book, despite the distances, on his death bed, he still profess his love for his family, Joffrey, Merry and Tommen, calling them good children. He was just disgusted by Joffrey and all of them were too afraid of him. The children in turn also loved their father and always seek approval.

So if Robert despite all his fault, his last wish being that Ned take care of his children and look out for them, came form love even though he kept a distance from them. How much greater would it be for someone that simply been there and butt heads with him for years?

As always, C+C welcome, Reviews Appreciated!


	5. Chapter 4

Game of Thrones belong to G.R.R.M

Fate Stay Night belong to Type Moon

**Special Thanks!:** The Big Cheese himself! All hail the big cheese!

A Throne Nobody Wants

Chapter 4

*** King's Landing- Arya ***

There was a thunderous roar from the crowd as the warrior from Essos was unhorsed by a knight from the Westerlands.

"_Lancel! Lancel! Lancel! Lancel!"_

Arya Stark of Winterfell joined them as she joined them on her feet and cheered. Immediately however, she felt a pull from her side and knew it was her Septa, rebuking her for the umpteenth time.

"Arya," Septa Mordane, the old woman of the fate dressed in her brown habit, warned. "Your actions reflect upon that of your father and House Stark. Look at Sansa, she's been perfect about it."

"Arggh!" Arya groaned in frustration as she sat down to politely clap with the rest of the ladies of the royal court.

She loved her older sister, she truly did, but it was hard to be in her sister's shadow all her life. Arya, why can't you stitch like Sansa? Arya, why can't you cook like Sansa? Arya, why can't you behave like Sansa? Look at how Sansa took to her lessons. You should too.

She was getting sick of it. The only things in which she surpassed her sister were sword fighting and mounted combat. However, that was nothing when compare to perfect Sansa... and the worst part was her sister's attitude. She never looked down on her, taking out time to help her in areas she needed help, including in the kitchen!

Sansa was perfect and she was just plain old Arya. It didn't matter when Sansa said that she was pretty in her own right. She didn't feel pretty, she was in the rest royal stands when the knights passed by and almost every unattached lady had been asked to grant their favor while she had been completely ignored, as if a child! Well she was not! She was already one and ten! Sansa of course had many looks given to her; she had seen them in the knights' eyes. She was sure her sister would have been flooded with requests if not for the fact that she was betrothed to Joffrey.

"Stupid. Stupid," Arya growled again. Not that she wanted to be a Lady anyway, but it would have felt nice to be appreciated.

Then there's the fact that Bran got to accompanied Ser Jaime Lannister, who had entered the tourney, and get to be among the contestants! That was soo unfair! When she asked her father to go with Bran, he told her it was no place for a lady to be around, among all the men.

She hated being a girl! Why was her father even worried? She wasn't pretty like Sansa!

"It looks like that's the last set for now," Sansa suddenly turned to her and said, her eyes kind as always. It was sooo hard to hate her perfect sister, with her perfect blue eyes and perfect long red hair! So... HARD. "Shall we wander for a bit?"

"Sure..." Arya replied sulkily. Her sister was followed by her father personal guards as they made their way to the food stands. None of it compared to her sister's cooking of course but her sister had not been allowed in the kitchen for three days now. It would be unseemly for the future Queen to be seen cooking when all of the Seven Kingdoms were attending a tourney in honor of her father.

"That smoked deer looked pretty good," Sansa spoke up and made her way to the stand.

"On the house m'lady," The stand owners offered immediately with a bow of his head. The banner of House Stark carried a lot of weight in King's Landing. She could see Sansa's face frown before she gave a resigned sigh and took the two sticks and handed one to her.

Arya wasted no time in eating it and Sansa did so but with not as much gusto. It was bland and lacked flavoring, something Sansa would have been able to fix. Gods she was going to miss her sister in Winterfell.

"So did you grant Joffrey your favor?" Arya asked her sister curiously. She smirked at bit as seeing her sister strained expression. It appeared she was still wrapping her head around the fact that she was to married.

"Father said I should," Sansa spoke with an unidentifiable tone. "So I did."

"Well, I heard he's doing well in the other bracket," Arya stated as she and her sister walk to see other stands along the way. There were some that sold wooden carved toys, one of them being the dire wolves like her own Nymeria.

The tourney was so big that it took three days for them to get to the finals and even had to split the jouster into four different area. However for the finals tourney, the remaining jousters will be battle in front of the King stand and she got front row seats.

"He's only doing well because other people forfeit when they see him," Sansa face frowned again.

Arya face scrunch up at that, she didn't realize Joffrey was getting through the bracket because they were simply giving up before facing him. That was cheap. Joffrey wasn't too bad, he can be a right prick if he wants to be, but his sister keeps him in line. Arya had to smile when she remember how Mordred had taken Joffrey away during their trip back to King Landing.

Joffrey had wanted to impress Sansa by fighting Mycah, the butcher's boy, using a real blade however Mordred had stepped in and said if he had time to fight butcher boys, he had time to train. She was certain that some sort of disaster had been averted as everything had been tense, with Sansa trying to talk the prince down. The next time she had seen Joffrey after that was when he was in his carriage with a black eye.

"Well, my idiot brother is not without some skill," a voice spoke up suddenly behind them.

Arya and Sansa immediately turned around and saw Princess Mordred with her own personal escort wearing the Baratheon stag smiling at them. The princess was dressed in a stylish yellow and red dress, representing the Lannister and Baratheon houses. Her hair was now in the northern braid that she had grown fond of during her stay at Winterfell.

"Your grace," Sansa immediately curtseyed while the Stark guardsmen bowed low. Septa Mordane pulled at her sleeves and she tried to mimic her sister greeting. It was poorly done but the Princess wasn't laughing.

"Your Grace," Arya parroted after Sansa but saw the Princess waved off the bow. The princess had an easy going manner that Arya found quite similar to her own, though and her skill at the blade was nothing short of amazing. She had dueled both Sansa and her, easily defeating them both. It wasn't fair that the princess could swing a bastard sword as fast and nimbly as she could with Needle. She resolved to get better.

"Thank you for speaking with Ser Jaime for Bran, you have pretty much fulfilled his boyhood dream," Sansa smiled warmly to the princess.

_'And you couldn't ask the same for me too princess?' _Arya wanted to bite out but held her tongue. The last thing she needed was for her Septa to report her behavior to her father, and get punished for it.

"Think nothing of it," The Princess waved off Sansa's thanks.

Sansa, perfect as always, bowed humbly once more before flanking the princess.

"So, who do you think is favor to win?" the Princess asked as she walked between Sansa and her. Their guards seamlessly integrated with one another matching in formation.

"The big guy, the one they call the mountain," Arya spoke up first, she had seen the big man in action, even seen him kill a few jouster. She didn't think anyone can stand up to his strength.

"I think either Ser Jaime or Ser Sandor," Sansa spoke up after giving it some thought. "The Mountains is strong but he doesn't appear to be that skilled."

"What about you?" Arya asked as they started to walk their way back to the royal box. She had to say it but she saw the small folks looking at her sister and the princess in awe. Next to the two beauties, she was a third ugly, unwanted presence. Her sister had her fiery red hair and the princess had her golden strands. She was just dark and wild, with a face that was too long. Some of the kid her age had started to call her Arya Horse-face. It hurt, but not as much as she hurt them for saying it.

"I think either Uncle Jaime or the mysterious Black Knight," Princess Mordred replied, pursing her lips thoughtfully.

"Mysterious Black Knight?" Arya asked looking up to the princess. She didn't remember seeing anyone like that.

"Oh yes, that's his nickname after he entered with a blank black flag, not representing any house." Mordred explained as she looked at Arya and lean in conspiratorially. "Some say he's horribly disfigured that's why he has yet to take off his armor."

Arya could feel her excitement rising. The best part of any tourney would be mysterious knights dueling it out.

"Of course, he wasn't the only mysterious knight, there were lots of others that also had their flag colored black, but he eliminated them all," Princess Mordred replied thoughtfully as they began the turned a corner and saw the royal box coming into view. "Oh look there he is now."

Arya looked over to where the princess pointed and saw at least thirty mounted knights trotting over to their tent separate from the area. There were a lot of black armored knights to contrasting to the white armored one. Yet, there was one black knight in particular that stood out. He was the only one with his helmet still on and there was an aura about him that she couldn't place but it demanded her attention. Looking over to her sister she could see from her sister facial expression, that she thought the same. Even Princess Mordred was looking speculative.

"We don't know what house he is from?" Sansa asked as the mysterious black knight rode out of view.

"Maybe he's a poor bastard trying to win the tourney money," Mordred spoke up as the three girls made their way into the stands.

Arya looked up sharply at the princess before she remembered that their royal companion held no prejudice against bastards. In fact, back at Winterfell, she had often sought out her brother Jon and struck up a conversation with him. There was nothing that she could do to prove it but for some reason, she felt that the princess could empathize with Jon, which was silly because the Princess wasn't a bastard.

"Any case, I hope Joffrey won't disappoint me too much," the Princess began and a vicious gleam entered her eyes. "If he doesn't make it to at least the second round, there'll be hell to pay."

Arya could only smile widely as the princess parted ways from them and made her way to the King.

"I like her," Arya decided. The princess seemed much more grounded than the snobby ladies of the court.

"She's also very unladylike," Septa Mordane, who had been respectfully quiet, clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "That is why you should be thankful every day you never have to luxuriate in decadence."

"... Sure," Arya replied evasively seated herself and listen to the crier introduce the royal family. This was going to take a while.

++++ Arthur++++

Arthur was in his tent sharpening the edge of his great bastard sword, whom he had fondly named Irisviel, when one of his men came in.

"What is it?"

"Prince Oberyn is here to see you Ca- Arthur," Carlus, his personal guard answered. The man was armor lightly, but he was quick with his throwing daggers.

"Send in him," Arthur nodded as turned around to see the Dornishmen disguised in a simple cloak.

"Your Gr- I mean Arthur," Oberyn began with a playful smirk as he took off the cloak. He looked directly at Arthur with a raise eyebrow. "You don't have a squire to sharpen your blade for you?"

Arthur felt his mouth twitch upward slightly, if only Oberyn knew that the best squire was in this room. Anyone else would be garbage compare to himself. "No. I preferred to do it myself. Now why are you risking our cover and coming here?"

"Because I think we have a little problem," Oberyn suddenly said very seriously. He began to pour himself a mug of ale, only to find out that it was water. His nose crinkled in disgust.

"What problem?" Arthur violet eyes snapped to Oberyn face in alarm. "Did someone see through my disguise?"

"No, no, our cover is still good," the Dornishmen replied as he grudgingly drank the water. "No, it's just that you have become too popular. Your skill with a lance is already making rounds through the royal stands. They all want to know who's underneath that mask of the mysterious black knight."

"... So how is that a problem? You said my looks can pass for those from Old Valyria," Arthur's eyes locked onto Oberyn's, forcing the man to look away. Was he going to have to retreat now that judgment was so close for the foul murderer?

"Because, if you remain silent, and kill Gregor Clegane later, it would pretty much seem like you were just trying to kill him and him alone," Oberyn replied and elaborated. "Technically, jousting and the Melee are supposed to be done in the '_spirit of competition'_ but houses have been known to resolve their feuds with them also."

"And since I am not of a house, they would think I am an assassin sent to kill him and I would be detained," Arthur concluded and sighed.

"Naturally we won't let it end that way," Oberyn respond with hard eyes. "Every Dornishman in the city will fight for you, of that you have my word."

"Too much blood shed, I don't want innocent bystanders to be affected," Arthur spoke up and whispered very softly for Oberyn to hear. "We are not like Clegane. We do have honor."

Oberyn looked surprised by the declaration but there was respect in his eyes. "Aye, that we do."

"So how would you advise our execution of Clegane to be less... obvious?" Arthur hesitatingly beseech the older man. In body if not in spirit.

"Well, you are a mysterious knight, you are also kind of standoffish, many a ladies were trying to get your attention but you have ignored them," Oberyn listed to Arthur who could only fail to see the point. "To make yourself more amicable in people eyes... perhaps you can ask for a Lady's favor?"

Arthur eyes widen and suddenly blushed. "I- I am n-not courting anybody!"

Oberyn eyes widen comically for a moment before he began laughing, causing Arthur to redden further. "A Lady's Favor is not an engagement or a betrothal, it just shows interest that need not be pursued, you can always let the lady down gently when the time comes."

Arthur frowned a bit before nodding. Obviously the meaning of a lady favor here was different than the one back in Camelot. In Britannia, it was as good as an engagement request. Yet another difference between Westeros than Britannia. If he had to say, it's that their morals and honors were... looser.

"Hey, maybe you should asked one of Princess Mordred, I heard she hasn't granted hers to any knight yet," Oberyn grinned but wavered as he saw Arthur's expression.

Arthur for his part had set his face, the fact that there was a princess here name Mordred had shocked him. Thankfully, he had seen said princess and was relieved to find out that she looked nothing like the Mordred he knew. This princess had a fairer face,the gold in her hair was a touch deeper and the green in the eyes were different from the piercing one he had faced on the battle field. More importantly, she was taller, still shorter than Arthur's male body, but taller than what they were before at Camlann.

The face however was pretty in its own right . The name might have been the same, but Oberyn had assured him that Mordred was a known Lannister name.

"I'll pass on that," Arthur slowly as he finished the sharpening of his sword. "I'll make do."

Suddenly, the trumpet blared, signaling it was time to parade in front of the royal family. Nodding to the Dornish prince, he put his helmet back on and strode out of the tent with purpose. Mounting his black steed, he was the last in line. Slowly, the knights began to ride forth at a slow trot as the small folks yelled in support while the nobles clapped.

Arthur rolled his eyes as many of the knight stopped by some of the prettier looking ladies of the court and asking to fight in their honor and beg a favor. Grimacing, he searched the stands too before his eyes fell upon the girl next to the King's Hand, Lord Eddard Stark if he remembered correctly. The girl could be no more than ten or eleven. She was dressed in blue and gray colors and appeared to be feigning boredom but he could see that her eyes and body tensed as each knights passed by her. Her expression was downcast as those knights passed by her and asked other ladies favor. The girl was a child trying to be recognized as a woman.

Arthur grinned. Her innocence reminded Arthur of his own little sister... well before she flowered. With a nod, he made up his mind. Easing his horse toward her direction, he felt many eyes on him and heard whispers from the men. Many of the ladies gave him hopeful looks but he ignored it as he stopped in front of the bored girl, who eyes grew wide when he had done so.

"May I ask your name my Lady?" Arthur spoke up and heard a brush of muttering through the stands all looking at him. The girl appeared stunned and her father, the hand shot him an unreadable look; even the red hair girl next to her appeared a bit shocked by the development.

"A-Arya of house Stark," the girl, Arya, stammered as if she was still surprised anyone would approach her.

"Then, My Lady Arya of House Stark, may I beg a favor from you?"

There was a stunned expression on those presence around the girl, and he could feel princess Mordred eyes boring into him. He still had to suppress a chuckle of thinking of a princess with Mordred's name.

However, the girl suddenly gave him the brightest smile ever and nodded vigorous making the red head next to her smile while the father look on indulgently. The girl shyly took out a cloth with a badly stitched picture of what Arthur could only presume to be a dog on it.

"If you would be so kind as to tie it to my right wrist," Arthur requested and saw the girl blush when she noticed a lot of the eyes were now on her. Still, she bravely met his look and tied it firmly around his wrist.

"They say you are horribly disfigured underneath that helmet," the girl spoke up suddenly. "Won't you show me your face?"

Arthur grinned underneath his helm and slowly backed away from the rails, seeing the disappointment in her stormy grey eyes. "If I lose then it's best that you never saw it."

With a soft nudging of his foot he trot pass the royal family and looked upon the King of all the Seven kingdoms for the first time. Arthur found it hard to believe that someone of that rotund shape could have defeated Rhaegar and won the Seven kingdom. Maybe his strength belied his frame. Whether it was the king that ordered his assassination or not, he could not tell. After all, many things could happen under a king's nose. Arthur had first-hand experience with that.

Tilting his head in a respectful manner, he rode past the royal family and went to the waiting area with the rest of the mounted knights. Searching it, he saw the banner of the three headed dog and the mountain of a man, Gregor Clegane.

Arthur would bide his time, looking at the match board, he can ride against Gregor in the second round, with Prince Joffrey being the first.

++++ Mordred+++

Mordred had kept her eyes on the black knight until he faded behind the contestant area. She could feel Tommen's excitement at the mysterious figure who had been making waves through the contest. Her little sister was the same, she would bet a thousand dragons that her little sister had wished the black knight asked her for her favor, it was the stuff ladies dream about, though Myrcella was probably too shy to admit it. Her two incest spawned siblings turned out to be a lot more decent than her family members and her to be sure.

Myrcella had all of their mother's beauty but none of the venom, the girl constantly trying to befriend the Stark children. Tommen is the same but had a cat fetish, though he could stand to lose a few pounds. He seemed motivated now that there was a boy his own age to run and play with. The two were seated right at the foot of the King's seat but a bit to their his left.

She was seated to Robert's left and her mother's right. This would normally be Joffrey's chair but since he was otherwise 'occupied', she claimed it. Her mother could talk about propriety all she wanted but might makes right.

"What's a matter girl? You going dewy eyed for the mysterious black knight?! Hah!" Robert Baratheon laughed as he state on the dais drinking from his wine cup. A moment later he spat it out. "What in the Seven hells, why is there water in here?!"

Mordred turned coolly to her 'father' and glared at him. "I don't want your drunk ass weighing me down. If we are in the melee, we are in it to WIN."

Robert sputtered in rage but Mordred turned around to watch the first joust. The fact that the black knight spoke with such authority was surprising. She turned her eyes toward her younger future sister in law and saw the girl look excited to have a champion at last. She hoped the Black Knight wouldn't disappoint the girl and actually make a decent showing.

"I want wine damn it, someone bring me a-"

"Grab his fat ass some chicken!" Mordred half yelled after having enough of her 'father's outrage. "You will not be drinking, I want you to be able to swing that hammer and not at me or the kingsguard later!"

"That's it! I had it with you, you little-!"

"My love," Her mother spoke up interjected. No doubt the woman wanted to avoid any royal embarrassment that would reflect on her. "Perhaps she has a point, You would not want to accidentally bash her head in with your warhammer do you?"

"I would never!" an outraged Robert shouted. He was still skilled and, while not as versatile with his warhammer as before, he was still efficient enough thanks to Mordred keeping him on his toes.

"If he strikes me with the hammer I am poking his lard ass with my blade!" Mordred told her mother while glaring at her 'father.'.

"Oh Seven, I beseech of you please send me a man that would take this brat away from my kingdom and release me from this burden!" Robert dramatically declared to the sky.

Mordred raised her eyebrow before she smirked. "The gods don't hear sinner's prayers. Oh and I took the liberty of changing the crown for this tourney."

Robert never verbally accepted his daughter's decree but, he was no longer making an issue of it. That, to her, was a victory.

"What did you do girl?" Robert asked, his fat face full of suspicion.

"Well, I mean since this is a tourney for your hand, I figured a crown made out of winter roses would be more fitting," Mordred grinned as a new bearer took the old red and yellow crown away and instead place a beautiful made crown of white and blue.

The king was brought up short as he looked at the crown of roses. His face paled a bit and for a moment his eyes seem distance and afar. Even her mother appeared displeased with the crown glaring at it venomously.

Finally Robert found his voice though it came in a whisper. "It- it's beautifully made...Mordred."

Mordred for once held her tongue and pity her mother all the same. The ghost of Lyanna Stark still haunt his father but her mother appeared to be too into her Uncle Jaime to have ever been a proper wife, a queen yes, but a wife? No.

Thankfully with her sword skill, she would never be any man's wife, and with her brother Joffrey on the throne eventually, she could live out the rest of the days above the games. Besides, there is not a single man in all of Westeros worthy of her.

They were all taken out of their contemplation when the trumpet announce the first joust, which was Uncle Jaime. Who rode against a Knight of the Vale. He defeated the Vale Knight within three lances. The next one was a Dorne Knight against Loras. Loras won, his skill at jousting was too much for the dorne man. Gregor Clegane was next and unhorsed the knight from Winterfell brutally. She saw Eddard and the girls rise up to their feet in alarm.

Finally it was Joffrey's turn and the mysterious Black Knight. She pursed her lips as the two charged at one another but the black knight proved to be far superior as with a single thrust and deflection, he unseated Joffrey from his horse.

The Stark girl, Arya, crowed out loud, holding onto her father's arm and pointing at her champion who raised the girl's favor for all to see before trotting away. Her mother naturally hated the black knight instantly. After all, no one hurts Joffrey.

Jumping down from the dais as Joffrey was being helped up by the gold cloaks, she went to him. "Joffrey, I saw you out there."

"Really sister?" Joffrey asked, his voiced sounded happy and excited.

"Yes, You're shit. Absolutely shit," Mordred replied in a flat tone and glared at the boy through his upended visor. The boy looked crestfallen. "But, we can work on that. Are you going to give up like a little girl?"

"Whatever you wish sister!" Joffrey beamed at the backhand compliment.

Mordred walk back up to the dais and saw Robert looking at her with approval. Of course the woman wanted her and her brother to get along. Her mother however frowned, she never wanted Joffrey to be hurt and training with her often left him bruised and battered. At least he wasn't a scrawny little prince like before.

The next bout had the Hound, Joffrey's personal bodyguard, unhorsed her Uncle Jaime after breaking nine lances against each other. Loras Tyrell moved passed the knight from the Westerland and before they knew it, it was Gregor and the Black Knight. Which was stupid because both of them were wearing black armor.

There was some odd tension in the air she couldn't quiet place but after the seventh lance broken between the two, she noticed a pattern. The Black Knight weren't trying to unhorse Gregor, he was trying to anger the man. Each lance struck the man in a particular vulnerable area. Judging by the speed of the black knight, Gregor must have been feeling numb, while the black knight hardly looked winded.

It was with the ninth lance, as everyone held their breath when Gregor was unhorsed by the black knight. The cheering from the crowd was wild but not more exuberant than that of the Stark girl who was smugly looking at all the other ladies in attendance.

Mordred noticed the black knight appeared to be whispering something to Gregor that infuriated the man before the giant stalked off the field.

The Black Knight rode three more time against House Tully, and two other obscure Houses. All three victories coming by a single broken lance and all of them were unhorsed. Her normally boisterous father was looking on with great interest. Finally the end came to Loras and the Black Knight while the Hound would ride against a Frey.

When the Knight of Flowers decided to change steed, Mordred knew something was fishy. The knight paraded cockily, not unlike how Lancelot use to, and gave all the ladies flowers. To her amusement, the Stark girl turned her head away from the handsome knight and rejected his gift. It was then she noticed how the other horses nearby reacted to the Knight of Flower horse. It was a mare he was riding. A mare in heat. A dirty trick to be sure but not illegal.

_'Lancelot would have never pulled that stunt.'_

Much to her own surprise, the stallion the black knight was riding looked only distracted for a second before he stroke its mane and whispered something to it. Whatever it was, it was too soft for everyone to hear as Loras and the Black Knight charged at one another. The two broke the first lance evenly. The second one caught Loras in a bad position but he still persevered and hung on. It was the fifth exchanged between the two that unhorsed the fame Knight of Flower. Her 'uncle' Renly was on his feet immediately, concerned for his 'friend'. She scoffed at that. As if the fact that her uncle preferred men was a secret.

_'Maybe had Lancelot taken after Loras in that respect there would have been no ruination of Father's kingdom.' _

Of course, her little insurrection might have died in its infancy too. Ah, what ifs, her favorite game since her rebirth. Shaking her thoughts, her attention returned to the match at hand.

Loras stood up and looked surprised as he wobbled on his feet before being caught by the gold cloaks guards and escorted back to the contestant area.

Finally it came down to Sandor Clegane and the Black Knight. The entire field was silent and Mordred found herself pretty invested in the outcome. To her left, the Stark girl appeared to be clutching her hand tightly, as if in prayer. It was then the trumpet sounded that Mordred whipped her head back to the field and saw the two charging at one another.

The thunderous sound of the cracking wooden lance silenced everyone. The next seven broken lances showed that the long battle the black knight had had through the day was wearing on him as his bracket had been harder than Sandor Clegane.

By the time they both broke the tenth lance, the black knight appeared to falter while the hound wasn't doing much better. Both where leading heavy in their saddle, but neither wished to fall. The eleventh lance was the one that was going to determine the outcome, Mordred knew it. They only had one last spurt of strength before it was to be all over for them.

The crowd was holding their breath and Mordred surprised herself by doing the same. Looking at Robert and her mother, they too seemed riveted to the match, impatient for the outcome. Only Robert, a warrior, once, could feel the finality of what was about to happen.

For a moment, Mordred was taken back inexplicably when Lancelot rode against her in their tourney in Camelot. Before she shook her head as the two men spurred their steed onward, all signs of defense abandoned, they would hammer each full on.

The sound of the lances hitting home directly on both men made the crowd gasp, but to everyone's surprise, both men were still on their horses. It was Sandor however, who's steed who took a few more steps before he slid from the saddle and onto the ground.

Mordred looked to the black knight who appeared to sag onto the back of his steed before he rose up and threw the lady favored arm into the air. The applause from the crowd was deafening as they showed their approval to the victor. Even Robert stood on his seat and clapped so hard, she thought he was going to suffer a heart attack and die.

No one's enthusiasm was more apparent than the little girl who had given the said knight her favor. The Stark girl was so rowdy that the Hand had resigned himself even as their Septa tried to force the girl to stop standing in her seat.

"Magnificent!" Robert shouted as he looked at the black knight doing his victory lap, his arm still raised high. "Absolutely magnificent!"

Mordred too clapped politely while her mother cast an admiring gaze at the knight.

Eventually the black knight made his way to the king dais and bowed as the king stood up and motioned for everyone to be silent.

"Alright you mysterious whore son," Robert boomed much to everyone laughter. "You won the right to the rose crown alright, but I'll not give it to some fuck that can't look me in the eye."

The crowd roared some more as everyone was eager for a look at the mysterious knight face. Mordred herself was curious.

"As you wish, your grace," the Black Knight said and placed both hands on his helmet and took it off.

There was instant gasp and Mordred once more found herself to be one of them. The man was handsome, extremely so. He had fair Lannister like hair and purple eyes found in those of Old Valyria. There were many nobles of the court with that had the same look but the combination on this man face was almost achingly beautiful to behold. Mordred for the first time in her life found her face a bit flushed. There was something familiar about this man's presence and even her mother sensed it as she sat up straighter. Robert himself appeared to try and draw upon his kingly presence as to not appear lesser before the man before him.

"Well, you're a pretty son of a bitch aren't you?" Robert finally said as he looked at the man with the purple eyes. Mordred could tell that Robert was thinking of Rhaegar again, just like every other time he had met someone with purple eyes.

"You are too kind," the mysterious Black Knight spoke firmly. It wasn't the flowery speech like Loras'. Nor was it self-depreciation like Uncle Jaime. It was firm, resolute and Robert heard it.

"Well, do you have a name?" Robert asked impatiently but his demeanor was still kingly.

"Arthur Sand your grace."

Mordred felt her eyes widen a bit but shook her head. Arthur was a common enough name in Dorne judging by his surname. Still, whenever someone introduced themselves as Arthur to her, she instantly clutched her breath before realizing that her former father was not here.

"A bastard eh?" Robert smirked before looking at the other knights around him. "Well you certainly rode better than these true born lot."

Arthur simply inclined his head.

"Well, Arthur Sand," Robert said as he took the crown of white and blue roses and held it out to the knight before him. "You earned this, now go crown your Queen of Love and Beauty you pretty son of a bitch."

Mordred nearly missed it but she saw the brief irked look across the man face at being called pretty. He wasn't pretty, not like Loras, but he was handsome. For a moment, she wondered what would she do if he crowned her Queen of Love and Beauty.

"My thanks your grace, but there is only one Lady here that deserve this crown," Arthur declared loudly for all to hear. His voice commanded attention. Suddenly he moved his steed to the right of the king and faced the Stark girl who had bestowed upon him, her favor.

The girl, who was so wild and rambunctious before was now suddenly very shy and red in the face. In fact she looked like she wanted to hide between her father and her sister. Her father looked a bit pale, his eyes distant but her sister was grinning from ear to ear.

"For you, Lady Arya of House Stark," Arthur smiled as he placed the beautifully crown of winter roses on the girls head. "The Queen of Love and Beauty."

There were a standing ovation and a lot of congratulatory well wishes from the lords and ladies in the dais as the black knight, Arthur, bowed low to his Queen of Love and Beauty and left the field.

+++ Gregor+++

The mountain killed his squire as soon as he got back and his men knew immediately he was angry.

_'If you think you can do better, meet me in the Melee.'_

The fucking Black Knight pretty boy had taunted him. HIM! Oh they'll meet in the melee alright, and then, he'll die.

No one stands up to the mountain, NO ONE.

TBC!

**UP Next: Archery , maybe melee.**

AN: Muwhahahahaha! For those that know both Fate and Game of Thrones, how many of ya'll saw THAT coming?:P

Like I say, Until the WHEEELS fall off! I believe some nuts and bolts starting to fly around.

I just want to know, for those that actually get the full impact and the irony of role reversal in every sense throughout this chapter, just how many crack a smile and grinned? Thank you once more to Icura and UN for your sport to helping me make this the most amusing fic, but with plot, as possible.

I hope I got the jousting part right, I study it and read up on it but we'll see how it turns out. /shrug

Thank you for all the encouraging reviews I received especially to those that saw things or guess how things might be going! You guys rock!

As always C+C welcome, reviews appreciated.

Until the wheels fall off baby! Until the WHEELS fall off!


	6. Chapter 5

Game of Thrones belong to G.R.R.M

Fate Stay Night belong to Type Moon

**SPECIAL THANKS:** Cheeser for editing this bad boy for me. It would have looked a lot worse without him.

A Throne Nobody Wants

Chapter 5

*** King's Landing, Arthur***

Arthur stifled a groan as two sets of hands kneaded his shoulders and arms.

"Mmmm hmmm, that's right, let us take care of you..." A lovely dornish woman in her twenties cooed. Alongside her was another scantily clad dornish woman with long black hair that nodded in agreement.

The two women were a gift from Oberyn, normally a point of concern, but the prince of Dorne was hardly the first well-wisher from the nobility 'inspired' by his performance.

Arthur narrowed his eyes at some of the more brazen requests from highborn ladies, many of whom were married, asking for secret trysts... some of them even attaching small tuffs of hair to their parchment sheet. A bit confused, he had asked his second-in-command as to why they would do so, only to be informed from where they were taken, leaving him with a large blush that had lasted for several minutes.

God, were people ever as loose in Camelot? Would he have noticed? He certainly hadn't noticed Lancelot and Guinevere under his nose... Maybe his time had been a lot more amorous than he remembered...

A soft purr from the two women brought him out of his thoughts. The two women were expertly handling the bruises he had acquired from his joust, massaging healing oil commonly used in Sunspear, the capital of Dorne, into his flesh. Though it could have been self-administered, the treatment worked better if someone else applied it. However, there was a sense of danger Arthur could not quite pinpoint, the women faces were set, and they were acting very professionally, their gazes not lingering long on his form, unlike Daenerys. Their touches where firm and unyielding, worked out the knots from all of his aching muscle in a delicious way. Still, he remained cautious, because every now and then, the two women would share a look that gave him a bad feeling.

Any further thought was interrupted when he heard voices outside of his tent. He wondered if it was more couriers from nobles or shameless requests. How they moved so fast, he could only guess. It had only been less than an hour since he had won the Jousting . The flap at the entrance was pushed aside and in came his second-in-command, his face grim. Before Arthur could ask him what was he was doing here, three figures strode into his tent making his eyes nearly pop out from their sockets.

The first one he recognized right away. Dressed in her Lannister red and Baratheon gold was Princess Mordred, her eyes twinkling, a grin on her face as if she had earned some sort of victory. The second figure flanking the Princess was a red-haired beauty that was clearly younger than the princess. She was tall for her age and had a perfectly oval face with fascinating blue eyes. Her expression was apologetic, as was her stance, if such a thing was possible. It was then the last figure pushed past the Princess and the red haired maid and he had to smile. It was the girl he had crowned the Queen of Love and Beauty. The girl was a sharp contrast to the gold of Mordred's hair and the red of the other's yet it wasn't without its charm. The girl had a wild spirit, he could see that much at least, her dark hair was still was braided neatly but with touches to make it feminine. The blue winter roses, he noticed, still rested on her head.

It only took a second, but the girls' eyes landed on the scantily clad woman before falling on him. Their reactions were immediate, Arya blushing so red that it contrasted comically with the blue roses on her head. The redhead did not blush as heavily but there was a noticeable shift in her stance, as if she was fidgeting. It was Princess Mordred however, who eyes seemed to be openly staring at him. There was no maiden-like blush, but an intense look of something he couldn't quiet identify.

Smoothly, as to not give offense, he took his dark tunic and slipped it over his head in a single motion. The movement seemed to break the three out of the reverie as Arthur stood up and bowed towards the three ladies.

"My Ladies, to what do I owe such a visit?" He asked politely. He really didn't want to gather any attention, especially of the royal variety.

Mordred was the first to recover with a soft shake of her head. Suddenly she grinned and looked down at her dark haired companion. "It is ill-fitting for the Champion of the Crowned Beauty Queen to not greet his lord liege, is it not?"

Arthur eyes lit up in understanding and, humoring the princess, got on one knee and bowed in a knightly manner to the short girl. "Your Grace, forgive this humble servant leaving you unattended. I shall submit to any punishment you deem fit."

The girl, Arya, blushed again before her face set defiantly and smiled at him. "Come watch me in the Archery contest."

Arthur blinked. He had not entered that contest, but he did not know that the small girl had. Was she that skilled with a bow? His own skill with one was merely adequate. Seeing the hopeful expression on the girl he chuckled inwardly. "By your command, Lady Arya."

He could see the two older girls looking at each other but also the youngest one with fondness.

"Arya," the girl corrected him with a frown on her face. "Just Arya. I'm not a Lady."

"Arya the Just it is," Arthur teased and saw the girl blush again before glaring at him. "As My Lady commands."

Arthur stood back to his feet, towering over all three girls, being a head taller than Mordred, the tallest of the three. He turned to look at the two masseuses that had been with him earlier but found that they had left the tent. Clever.

"Well, I am also in the archery, as is Sansa here," Mordred pointed to the red hair girl who was looking around his tent curiously. Arya was also looking around and spotted his sword set placed by his little cot.

"I must say, you joust well. Where did you learn such skill?" Mordred asked casually but Arthur sensed there was something probing about the question. Sticking with his cover story he answered her.

"Essos, Your Grace. Many exiled knights make a living there or joined in mock tourney." He replied smoothly. "They are nowhere as skilled as those of Westeros stock, but they were adequate enough to get me started."

"So you are not a true knight then," Mordred confirmed with an arched look. She too moved around in the tent, looking at the Spartan accommodations.

"I am afraid not, just a warrior who heard about Westeros knights," Arthur evaded.

"So, you would be joining the melee?" Mordred inquire as she looked into his cup and held it to her nose to sniff it. "Hmm no ale?"

"Yes your grace and no. I do not care for ale when I compete," Arthur replied quickly, wanting the princess to leave his things alone, but the girl had no sense of propriety and just touched whatever she wanted. Arya was the same to a lesser extent as she looked at his weapons. The red head, Sansa, appeared to be the most respectful of the three.

"Good," Mordred smiled before she winked at him. "I too look forward if your skill with a blade is as good as your lance."

Arthur heard that Mordred styled herself as a warrior princess, but to participate in the mass melee, she must have been quite confident in her skills. He tipped his head in acknowledgment before Arya grabbed the pommel of his bastard sword and tried to lift it. The blade only went up half way before Arya stop and let it fall back to its original pace.

"Does your sword have a name?" Arya asked with a curious lithe to her voice as she faced him. "My brother Jon said that all good swords have a name."

"It does," Arthur acknowledged before he grabbed the bastard sword with ease and pulled it free from its scabbard. It made a sweet whistling noise as it was drawn before he stabbed it into the ground. "This is Irisviel."

Arthur could see Mordred and strangely enough, Sansa, looking at the blade as if they could determine its quality. It was well crafted to be sure, not like the valyrian steel he'd seen, but expertly made. It had served him well as a sellsword.

Arya however frowned and he could see the wheels turning in her head, hesitantly she made eye contact with him. "That sounds like a woman's name."

"That because it _is_ a woman's name," Arthur smiled softly at the little girl who, to his amusement, went red in the face again.

"She must have been special for you to name such a sturdy blade after her," Sansa softly chimed in. That surprised Arthur as the girl had appeared content to have been regulated to the back ground.

"She was," Arthur sadly sighed. His failure, Saber failure in the grail war, was yet another black mark.

"You must have loved her then," Arya spoke up, her voice small and she appeared to have sensed his mood. He saw her expression changed of that to surprise when he laughed.

"Love? No, though she was my friend," Arthur smiled fondly at the blade. "She took care of me when her husband and I were... working together."

Images of the Fourth Holy Grail war flitted through his head at a break neck pace. Alexander, Diarmuid. Gilgamesh... Lancelot.

"Oh? So she was married?" Mordred's attention also seemed to have been on him. "That must have been awkward when she realized you named the sword after her."

"She's dead," Arthur corrected before looking at the sword again. "It was just me and her husband but... never mind, it's long past."

In the end Arturia was betrayed once more, by her own master no less. No reason, no explanation, just two commands that ended her hope at the time. Though, seeing as where he was now, maybe the grail did grant Arturia her wish after all.

"Do you have a sword with the husband name too?" Arya inquire, as her eyes were focused on him.

"Not a sword no, he doesn't deserve to have a sword named after him," Arthur intone darkly as he pulled out a dirk that was made of valyrian steel. It was a gift from the governor of Pentos when the Eagle's fought off the Dothraki raiders. "But he was not without skill, so I named this weapon after him. That way, husband and wife could be together."

"What's its name?" Arya was the first to ask as she marveled at the rippling patterns on the small weapon.

"Emiya Kiritsugu," Arthur replied and heard a sharp intake of breath from the red hair girl who was now looking at him with disbelieving eyes. Before he could ask her what was wrong, the loud blaring of the trumpet flooded the area, signaling the beginning of the Archery contest.

"I guess it's time," Mordred announced as she gave a nod to Arthur as she walked out of his tent. She had grabbed the red head with her. The red head kept glancing back at him but he shrugged, they could talk later.

Suddenly his hand was grabbed by two smaller ones and was surprise to see Arya still with him. "Remember, you promised to come."

"I cannot disobey your order, your grace," Arthur humored the little girl, who blushed red and ran out of the tent. The melee won't be for another hour, he could spare some time for the small girl.

+++ Arya+++

Unlike most men of the North, Arya refused to dropped out of the archery competition when her sister's name was announced. She would not back down now, not with the mysterious black knight, Arthur, watching her from behind the gallery stand.

The competition was simple, they all got into a line and lined up next to each other, with targets at twenty five yards in front of them. They only needed to strike the bullseye to move onto the next they missed they would be eliminated. The distance would gradually increase in increments of twenty five yards until there was a victor left standing. Arya best was at two hundred yard with her extremely focused.

Most of the Southerners laughed at her and her sister joining. They looked out of place among the various grizzled men as well as the various highborn and noble women.

She herself was sandwiched between her older sister and the princess. The princess appeared to actually be concentrating on the competition at hand, while her sister looked...off.

Arya could tell that something was affecting Sansa greatly, her sister looking dazed and every now and then, she could be seen looking at the gallery stand, toward Arthur.

For some reason, a bubble of jealously welled up in her as she released her arrow and struck the target at one hundred yards. There were polite clapping but when Arya glanced at her sister; she balled her fists in annoyance. Her sister loosed her arrow but her eyes were not on the target in front but rather on Arthur again. Yet, her sister's shot STILL struck true.

How could her sister be so good in archery?!

Was her sister after Arthur? Sansa was engaged though, yet, she knew that Arthur had shaken her sister somehow.

_'By the old gods please don't let Sansa get this too, she gotten so many gift's already!'_

Arya knew it was unkind and childish to think this way, but for the first time, someone looked at her and not her sister. She didn't realize how much she craved that attention until it appeared. There was Jon and her of course but, Jon was also close to Sansa. She loved Sansa for treating Jon as her true brother, even as her lady mother reinforced his bastard status to them over and over again.

It was one of the few times Arya had seen Sansa angry or argue with anyone. Her sister could not stand what she viewed as injustice. She was kind to all the bastards she met and treated them all as if they were trueborn. So for once, for this little moment, someone was exclusively hers, and she didn't want to part with it and lose to sister once more.

Because she knew that when compare to Sansa, she was outshone.

**Thunk!**

"Dammit," Princess Mordred spat out in disgust as her arrow missed the bulleye by a few spaces. With a resigned sigh, she turned to look at Arya. "Your sister makes it look so effortless."

"She's unbeatable with a bow in her hand," Arya grumbled but noted that the princess only shook her head ruefully.

"I believe it," Mordred said. After a few second as Sansa smoothly nocked an arrow and let it loose, not even taking a few second to aim.

Arya watched as the Princess, walked off toward her royal brothers and sisters. The King had not shown up but neither had the Queen. Surprisingly enough, Mordred requested the Kingsguard, Ser Jaime Lannister, to oversee their protection. The Kingsguard in question did not look too thrilled being there with them.

She then turned her attention to Arthur, the blond man with the pretty purple eyes. Blushing, she looked at her target, which was now one hundred and fifty yards away, and after five seconds of aiming, released her arrow and struck true.

Her heart soared when the mysterious knight, he's a knight as far as she's concerned, clapped his hands. Although there were some girls near him that were obviously trying to get his attention, he was ignoring them in favor of her. The smile was for her. She didn't care much about boys before other than being better than them, so why now? Why was her small heart pounding?

Any thoughts she might have was interrupted when her sister walked up near her and without even aiming, fire yet another arrow on target. The contestant next to her sister, a man with a banner from the Vale, appeared to be intimidated by her sister's skill as he stared at her in disbelief. He then proceeded to miss.

Her sister had that effect on people. Luckily, she grew up with her sister, so the 'fighting spirit' that her sister said everyone had, did not intimidate her in the least.

"Dad...," Sansa spoke up softly before her eyes turned to Arthur once more. Arya looked around for their father but did not see him. Shrugging her shoulders, she moved to the next marker.

Three more rounds later and it was just Sansa, a man from Essos, a Dothraki warrior, who had abandoned his life style and her. Arya missed badly at two hundred and fifty yards, the furthest she had ever made it, while her sister, yet again, made the shot. The Dothraki warrior missed the bulleyes by a hair's breath.

There was polite clapping, loud shouts in the case of the northmen who was there, as her sister was declared the winner. To her surprise, her sister appeared to set her face, the one she usually donned when she had determined a course of action and was walking toward Arthur.

Arthur cocked his head curiously as her sister approached when something odd happened.

The sky, which had been clear and sunny before, darken and rumbled. There was a loud thunder clap that startled the people and a weird sensation in the air that caused her skin to tingle even as torrential rain started pouring from the sky.

"Lady Arya! Lady Sansa! This way!" Her father's house guards had jumped over the railings, a heavy cloak in their hands as they shrouded her sister and her from the rain.

"Sansa," Arya muttered as she took her sister's hand. She had never seen a storm like this before. It was kind of frightening. Numerous forks of lighting speared through the darkening skies as if doing battle. Oddly most of all was her sister. Her sister seemed shaken as well.

The guards were too distracted by the rain, trying to keep her and her sister dry as they rushed to cover, but Arya saw Sansa hand dart out to the sword close to them and muttered something.

"Trace on..."

Her sister eyes widen before she took her hand off the sword scabbard. She wondered why her sister's face, which had been shaken before, looked puzzled and confused now.

As they entered the royal pavilion, Arya spared a glance back to see if Arthur made it out of the rain. To her surprise, she saw him standing in it as if basking, as he looked to the sky. To her surprise, Mordred appeared to be doing the same some distance away.

She wondered if it had anything to do with the weird humming in the air.

+++Volantis, Daenerys+++

The earliest memory Daenerys had was being on her brother's back as he carried her around after she had twisted her ankle. She remembered the warmth in his eyes as he picked her up and how he gently attended to her sprain ankle. She remembered him calling her a brave little dragon because she didn't cry.

This was when they were still living with Ser Williem Darry at the house with the red door.

The next was that of her brother training to fight under Ser Darry. She remembered when Ser Darry had told her that her brother was a natural born warrior, better than even Rhaegar. She remembered feeling so proud then because everyone knew her brother Rhaegar was the strongest and most handsome of all men in Westeros. Not even the Wolf maid, Lyanna Stark, was able to resist her oldest brother. At least that was how the story been told in Essos.

She remembered how she would only watch in awe as day after day, her brother trained until his hand bled and he was exhausted. Daenerys remember asking her brother why he trained so much. Why he would push himself and hurt himself to the point where it made her cry just seeing it. Ser Darry said they were royalty of the Targaryen line, so why didn't her brother just have people fight for him? She remembered confronting him about it, tears in her eyes, her heart hurt from the bloody sight of his body (Building up endurance he had said) and demanded he just get Kingsguard knights to fight for him. That he should not hurt himself anymore.

She remembered her pretty golden haired brother, looked at her with his gentle eyes as he took her hand and kissed the palm of her hand to soothe her. Her brother was just too perfect in her eyes. She remember being insistent to the point where her brother just sighed at her.

_'Why should anyone fight for me, if I do not fight myself?'_

The question confused her then because the answer had been so obvious to her, or so she thought.

'_Because you are their king!'_

That was the basis of her counter argument, even as young as she was. She was a princess, Ser Darry had always told her so, but he was her brother and that made him the king. Kings will have people fighting for them. It was a very sensible reasoning by her young mind.

_'And just who gave us the right to be king sister?'_

The question had stumped her. Weren't they always just kings? Who gives a king anything?

_'But... you shouldn't have to train so hard to be king... You are always hurt...'_

She fell back on her selfish desires, her younger mind not being able to grasp the intricacies of leadership. Her brother though, even at that age, had.

_'Sister, I am not training so that I can be king.'_

The why was he training? It made her sad to see him come home bloodied and bruised. Why? Didn't he understand that it broke her heart to see it?

_'Then why are you?'_

She wanted to know.

_'I need to be strong enough to protect you my precious little dragon.'_

And with those words, her fate was tied to that of her brothers. He was doing it for her, all the blood, the bruises, the exhaustion; it was all for her. Ser Darry protected her because that was his duty, he told her so. He was bound by his knightly oath.

Her brother had no such thing. She remembered seeing her brother, really seeing him for the first time, as a girl sees a boy. He had been young and she even younger, always a five year difference. Yet in that moment, all the stories that Ser Darry had let her know about her family came rush through her mind. She was going to marry him. He was going to be a king and she his queen. They were Targaryen, it was the way things were done.

It was not long after she made up mind on being her brother's bride that Ser Darry died. She remembered the servants had run off with Ser Darry's money and valuables. She had been scared, so very scared. She did not know what to do but her brother did. He had gathered the most valuable items still left in their possession and fled the city at the time.

The days where they were on the road trying to survive were too numerous to count, yet, somehow, someway, her brother always managed to find something for her to eat. In her later years, she recalled that her brother had always watched her eat, but rarely did she remember him sharing a meal with her.

Eventually, they found farm land, and to her surprise, her brother became a farmer to earn a living for them. She hated that farm. It was the first time she realized other women were eyeing her brother. Slattern of all ages saw how beautiful her brother was and wanted him for themselves.

_'Filthy whores.'_

The worst part was when they tried to pretend to be nice to her so that he would pay more attention to them. Thankfully her brother had only prepared polite courtesy. Unfortunately, that only seemed to spur the local women folk on, both older and younger. Even girls her age!

_'Stupid sluts.'_

She had never been so glad the night she flowered. She had panicked, she had been afraid, she thought she was dying. She had screamed for her brother, and her lovely brother had rushed into her room within moments. His eyes were alert, his sword in hand ready to strike down their enemies. It was then her brother noticed her blood stains. To her everlasting embarrassment, her brother had calmly taken her aside and helped her clean up.

_'You are quite young to have this happen but it's not impossible.'_

She had blushed furiously as he explained to her what a woman body does and from now on, every month this condition would happen to her. How did her brother know so much about a woman's body? How could he? She had kept an eye on him and he had never given any girl a second glance. His eyes were only for her. His answer had just been a mysterious smile but the fact of the matter was it came down to one thing.

_'Your body is telling you it's ready to carry a child.'_

That made her a woman; she was no longer a little girl and she had been determined to continue the Targaryen tradition. She would carry her brother's child. They would have many children, though she did hope that they had an even number of boys and girls.

She wouldn't want any of them to become lonely.

Unfortunately, her...overtures, on him did not go well. He was stubborn, too noble, and refused to claim her. Then he made her angry at him, something she hadn't been in a long time. He tried to find her a husband. She had been so furious with him! She yelled at him and slapped him but he simply endured her temper tantrum, never losing patience with her.

To this day, she thanked the assassins that came for them in the night. It had been scary, yes, but when they made their escape, she realized why they were found. A brother and sister living together, as they had been, stood out from the couples of husband and wife, making them easy to find. It was an idea she latched onto but she couldn't suggest it to her brother right away. She needed to soften him up first, so she cried. She cried and cried, until her eyes were an ugly red. Then she pretended to shiver and shudder. It took a while but eventually her brother never left her side.

When they got to the next city, Tyrosh, with her still pretending to be afraid (It was a hard thing because her brother could protect her from anything) she brought up how the assassins would look for a white haired sister, and golden haired brother. They do not marry their brothers and sisters in Essos. A white haired wife and a golden haired husband was common. She had used all of her most fearful looks, and 'promised' him that when she felt that she was safe, when _they_ were safe, she would seek out a husband worthy of her. That had done it for her brother. Up to that point she had always resisted the idea of a husband other than her brother. She felt a bit guilty for lying to her brother but, it was for his own good.

She convinced him that if they had to pretend they should make it as realistic as possible. Once they were safe, they could annul their marriage. Her brother had been against it so then she cried and pretended to have nightmares until he had caved to her suggestion.

So before the gods and officials of the city, she officially married her brother. It was under a new name perhaps but still, they were married! Then her brother became a sellsword. She had been worried at first.

_'Don't you dare make me a widow bro-husband!'_

_'….'_

But evidently, her brother's training had paid off. Now, they had their own private army that had all but bent knee to her brother and their coffers were overflowing. The older her brother grew, the more his powerful charisma charmed even the most hardened of allies. She had a feeling when they go back to Westeros, the Eagle's Brood, would be following him. They had fought for the honor of being his elite guards on his mission to avenge their niece and nephew.

Her brother was a king; no he deserved to be a king. She would do anything to help him realize that dream if he asked it of her.

She found herself now musing on the past with him gone for so long. Their house, despite being guarded by Unsullied, still felt empty without his presence to fill it. Even the Unsullied missed the master of the house despite being eunuchs. It a windy night, a storm was going to brew soon. Closing the book she had even intention to read but just never focused on, she called for her servant to prepare a bath for her.

"Mena?" Daenerys called out loud.

Curiously, she stepped out into the hall way, for some reason, she began to feel a slight sense of trepidation.

"Mena? Rosoc?" she called again, hoping her maid or the Unsullied guard would answer her.

It was when she turned the corner in her home that she saw it, Rosco, the captain of her bodyguards, throat was slit, the pool of blood looked fresh.

"Guar-?!" Daenerys began to shout until she felt shadows in the room with her.

"Well, well, well, this is Arthur Pendra's wife eh? Not bad, not bad at all," a sinister voice called from the dark.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Daenerys demanded of the cloaked men, she pulled her shift closer to her to prevent them from leering at her.

"We are Sand Scorpions, and we owe the Eagle's and Arthur for humiliating our company." the leader of the cloaked men declared.

Daenerys laughed suddenly as she realized with some irony that it was not Baratheon daggers that would do her in but Arthur's enemy. The Sand Scorpions were the top mercenary company in Volantis and had double the men the Eagles had as well standing well over eight thousand. Yet, under Arthur's leadership, the Sand Scorpions decided to teach the nobles of Volantis a lesson by siding with their enemy, another mercenary company hired from a rival city.

When something like that happened, usually the city pay a higher amount or buy a stronger mercenary company to take care of the problem. The city of Volantis had wanted the Golden Company, the top mercenary company to take care of the problem. But they had been contracted elsewhere, and the Golden Company never leaves a contract unfinished.

Panicked, they hired smaller mercenary companies to repel the invaders but most of the top ones were gone from the city, doing other jobs. Only the mid – to low company remained. As an army of twenty thousand mercenaries matched onto their cities holdings, the invaders found in their way another company. One that the city had not being paid for. It had been the Eagle's Brood and a dozen other smaller companies.

The Sand Scorpions had been destroyed by her brother, even outnumbered two to one as they were. To hear of anyone speak about the battle, they would say her brother won it all by himself. Yet her brother did not care, she knew, he only did what was right. He only did it to protect her and their home.

Daenerys spit at the feet of her attacker and drew herself to her full height. "Arthur will hunt you down and kill you all with the rest of the Eagles. You are all dead men; you just don't know it yet."

"The Eagles are busy fighting off incursion all over the city," the cloaked man replied with dark chuckle. "I am going to send you back to Arthur in pieces."

Daenerys wasn't prepared to fight, having never been able to keep up with her brother training. However, before she could do anything her missing maid jumped on the leader and slit his throat in a swift motion. Then everything happened fast.

Someone grabbed her hair, she struggle, her maid struggled. Someone knocked the candle on the ground. It rolled to the curtains lighting up a large pyre. Two of her Unsullied guard, she thought they had all died, came in and a fight started. Fire began to catch everywhere as the ringing of steel echo in her once peaceful household. She was running from a man that was after her in the flaming hall ways. She ran to her room. The fire spread quicker than anticipated, her windows aflame. The dragon eggs the merchant master, Illyrio, gave were right there on her bed but so was the short sword her brother gave her. Picking it up, she turned around and stabbed blindly and was rewarded by the surprised look on the man face as she ran him through.

Fire was everywhere now. She could see no way out now, fire had brought down the building interior. She clutched her eggs only to have a wooden beam fall onto her trapping her as more fire danced around her. She struggle for a moment but found herself unable to free herself. As she lay trapped under the beam, she thought of her brother, and silently apologized for the pain that her death would cause.

TBC...

AN: And the wells keep on falling off! Burning off the treads now! Vroom Vroom!

UP Next: Ten Ways to Break down a Mountain.

So, I figure I take the time out to thank UN and Icura for helping me bounce idea back and forth ^_^. For those unfamiliar with Game of Thrones. Robert started a war over Ned sister Lyanna. Lyanna was Crowned Queen of Love and beauty by Rhaeger over his own wife and queen, Elia. That caused some controversy. After that, Rhaegar stole Lyanna away and ware happened.

Last chapter, I parallel that for the lulz and have Arthur (Targaryen Prince) Crown Arya (Star Wild girl who is said to look like Lyanna) Queen of Love and Beauty. Arthur is technically officially married to boot. But like I say, I do it for the Shenanigans!

I am not sure what I qualified Daenerys as, Kuudere, Yandere or Tsun tsun. Arya is a tom boy, sansa-shirou is elegant? Mordred is tomboyish, and there are others incoming for the lulz.

SO yes, I named Emiya Kiristugu on a short stabbing weapon mainly used by back stabbers. That's right. Saber hated the man but she liked Irisviel so had a match set.

I am surprise I actually have plot but oh well, Plot and Funnies. Let's do it!

Thanks for those that reviewed, you guys rocks.

The Archery part wasn't really that popular as part of the tourney that's why the prize money was less, not like the melee or jousting. So that's why it was a more subdued affair. And yes Mordred will forever cock block Cersei and Jaime since Jon Arry died.

**On MAGIC: When **the last Dragon died, was when Magic left the world. When they were reborn in game of thrones, that was when magic start returning to the world.

As always C+C welcome, reviews appreciated.


	7. Chapter 6

Game of Thrones belong to G.R.R.M

Fate Stay Night belong to Type Moon

**SPECIAL THANKS:** Cheeser for editing this bad boy for me. He was busy, had a lot of his plate and STILL made time for this!

A Throne Nobody Wants

Chapter 6

*** King's Landing, Tower of the Hand- Sansa***

Sansa blinked as she found herself standing in the middle of an undulating field covered in flowers. The large Weirtree and Taiga, her direwolf , could be seen nearby, though Taiga was asleep. The sky overhead was clear blue, with a vibrant golden sun beaming down on the grassy hills. She looked down at herself and that she was dressed in a loose blue dress that was quite comfortable but too brief to wear in public. It was the same thing she wore when she went to sleep. Was this a dream or reality? The odd part about the field was the odd patches of flowers that covered pillars protruding a few feet from the ground.

Looking to her right, she noticed that there was such an object near her, covered in vines and an assortment of flowers. Bending down, she could smell the fragrant scent of the plants but also something else; something metallic, like steel. Narrowing her blue eyes, she touched the flower covered pillar and found that its core was solid.

She wondered on its origins before, with a determined look, she began to shift through the flowers, only to be rewarded with a sharp cut. Immediately pulling her hand out, she looked at her thumb and saw a deep cut on it, already beginning to leak blood.

Redoubling her efforts, she slowly untangled the thick growth and slowly unveil a sword in the middle of the field. With some amazement, she looked around her and realized that the other pillars were probably just like it.

"What is this...? I don't even..."

**CLANK!**

Sansa immediately turned around; she recognized the sound of clashing steel anywhere. Her jaw dropped slightly at the sight before her. In the horizon were two more suns in the sky. To her left, she saw brown clear hills, its landscape dotted with something she couldn't quite make out yet. The sky over head was as if dawn was breaking. To her right, there appeared to be interlocking gears rotating in the sky. The sky overhead wasn't dark, it was filled with smoky black clouds, giving the illusion of approaching dusk.

**CLANK! CLANK!**

Without much preamble, Sansa ran towards the sound of clashing swords in the distance. She weaved through the flowery field easily and after a few minutes, she stopped at the sight before her. Her vibrant field bordered the dawn and dusk lands. In front of her, a land blanketed in black and white fog was dotted with innumerable swords, all lying unclaimed. But why were these so different from the flower covered swords of the fields? It looked as if three different worlds had been stitched together, forming a strange amalgamation.

**CLANK! CLANK!**

Continuing to follow the sounds, she stepped into the field of blades as she tried to pinpoint their origin. Setting her face, she picked up two nearby swords in case whatever ahead proved unfriendly. One from the Dawnlands, and the other from the Gearworks land. They were similar in design to that of a sword from Westeros but had been curved liked sabers.

**CLANK! CLANK! CLANK! CLANK!**

Sansa grimaced as the sounds of fighting intensified until she crested a hill and looked down to see two shadows fighting in the fog. Finally, as if listening to her will, the fog cleared revealing the two combatants. She saw the male on the right first. He was tall, with white hair and dark skinned. He also wore a red cloak that matched the rest of his outfit and appeared to be furiously attacking the shorter combatant. The two locked blades before pushing each other away.

Then she saw the second fighter. She must have gasped, because the two fighters froze mid-fight and turned to look at her. The boy, with the determined face and red hair, looked at her in concern. The man also gave a double take at seeing her but immediately reigned in his emotions, his face giving nothing away.

"E-Emiya Shirou?" Sansa spoke aloud at her existence in another life.

The boy, Emiya, looked at her and blushed slightly before bringing his attention back to the dark skinned man just in case he was attacked. But the dark skinned man had dropped his sword and folded his arms looking up at her with the same neutral expression.

"Who are you and how did you get here?" the white hair man asked. Her previous existence seemed to glare at the man for his bluntness but looked back at her with kindly eyes.

"I-... I don't know... I was in the field over there and saw, these two fields here," she answered them, still looking at a face she had not seen in over a life time. It was her! "The sound of fighting drew me here."

"How foolish, to follow a battle it's source," the white hair man harrumphed as he still looked at her as if trying to determine what she was. "Looks like I'm in the presence of two idiots now."

"Shut up Archer!" Her previous existence shouted at the white hair man.

_'So the man's name is Archer...'_

"Even you can't be so far gone as to want to do battle with an innocent bystander here of all places?" Her former self glared at Archer.

"Have I ever given you the impression that I cared about collateral damage?" Archer taunted but he didn't make any more moves to re-engage. His words only seem to incense the Emiya Shirou before her and if she was honest, her also.

"So... Umm, Miss...?" her previous existence prompted her with a questioning look. He was looking at her with those stupidly kind eyes again. Did she always look like that?

"Sansa Stark," Sansa found herself surprised at the answer. The name had come so naturally to her. Had she already abandoned her previous identity?

"The question is; how did she end up in my reality marble," Archer drawled out lazily. Before a look of epiphany lit up on his face. "You mentioned something about a third field?"

Sansa nodded and pointed in the direction she came from, her previous existence, Shirou, looked at where she pointed, as did Archer. She felt a burst of magical energy as Archer narrowed his eyes before his body stiffened.

"Impossible!" Archer spoke up in alarm as he turned close the distance between them, Shirou, immediately got in front of her, his weapon raised, which only seemed to further annoy Archer.

"Not another move!" Shirou warned, his two blades poised to strike.

Archer narrowed his eyes. "Look at where she came from you idiot and tell me if it doesn't look familiar."

Sansa moved back as Shirou backed away from Archer with her and turned his head and glanced through the fog and even his eyes widen. "What… that looks almost like... my... yours, our... reality marble? How is that possible?"

Archer's eyes never left her and before she knew it he charged her, intending to strike. Shirou and her reacted instantly and brought their weapons in a similar fashion to block the attack.

Shirou looked over to her, surprised etched on his face. The transition and flow was smoothly done, it was also one taught by her old sensei, Taiga.

"You get it now fool? She's probably a version of us." Archer answered with a level look as he pulled back from the attack.

_'Us?'_

Upon closer inspection, the dark skinned man really did look like an older version of her male self. As ludicrous as it sounded, if she could be reborn as a girl, then the man in front of her could be a future version of Shirou.

"What?" Shirou appeared lost looking between Archer and her.

Sansa figure it was time to revealed her identity and looked at Shirou. "Where I came from, my name IS Sansa Stark of House Stark, rulers of Winterfell. I am the third oldest child in a family of eight."

She made eye contact with Shirou and Archer once more before she continued.

"However, before I was Sansa Stark, my name was Emiya Shirou of Fuyuki City," Sansa said, drawing a wide eyed look from Shirou and a glare from Archer. Clearly he was not as unflappable as he presented himself.

There was a few moment of silence before Shirou, who eyes had blatantly started to roam over her body that would have been consider rude in Westeros, spoke up.

"How?"

"I have no idea how I ended up being reborn as Sansa Stark, but, my final memories as Shirou was getting stabbed through the heart in school by a weird guy with a lance."

Archer and Shirou, who had appeared to be at odds with each other, glanced in surprise at one another.

"You died to that attack?" Archer asked, his face adorned with a puzzled frown.

"Getting stabbed through the heart is kind of hard to survive," Sansa bluntly replied.

"... Interesting. So Rin wasn't there to bring you back..." Archer mused more to himself then anyone.

"So... You don't know anything about the Grail Wars?" Shirou spoke up suddenly looking at her.

"What are the Grail Wars?" She asked her former self.

Suddenly Archer made a movement and walked past them both in the direction of what she now considered her field.

Shirou shared a look with her before they began to follow their older counterpart through the black and white fog into the field of flowers. As they neared their destination, the saw Archer's surprised expression as he examined a gleaming blade, broken flowers and vines where the blade once was. Behind her, Shirou was stared at the Weirtree and Taiga sleeping form. Taiga have grown big, she was easily the size of a lion now.

"What are you doing?" Sansa asked the taller version of her former self. The man appeared to be eyeing the blade critically, even running his thumb on the sharp edge. Upon seeing their approach he tossed the weapon to Shirou.

"Trace it." Archer ordered the boy.

Shirou glared at Archer and shot her an apologetic look. Didn't the fool know that she was once HIM, so she knew exactly what the expression was meant to convey. And now she just sounded like Archer.

Sansa palmed her forehead even as she heard Shirou muttered the incantation.

"It's a very good blade, well crafted," Shirou complimented as he was looked at the blade.

"Yes... it shouldn't be that good." Archer mused as he took a look around at the brightly cover field, Shirou doing the same.

"What does it matter?" Shirou asked as he stabbed the plain looking blade into the ground.

"Look around you!" Archer half shouted and swung his arms out to encompass the fields. "With this for the core of her soul, she shouldn't be able to make blades this fine. Nothing should be that easy."

Shirou looked puzzled, still not understanding but Sansa had seen this behavior dozens of time in court already.

"You're jealous..."

Archer whirled on her and gave her a hard glare but he did not deny her accusation. Suddenly he propped himself down on the flowery field, his legs folded. He then beckoned for Shirou to also take a seat.

"Sit down. There will be no more fighting for now."

Shirou warily sat down, before Sansa decided to follow suit. The three made a triangle as a light breeze caressed the group. She could smell metal and soot from Archer, while dust and dry air from Shirou.

Archer seemed to breathe the clean air in before turning to face her.

"So, _Sansa_, tell us more about yourself."

+++ Arthur+++

Arthur watched as the melee group gathered into what was a glorified holding pen that was least a hundred yards in length and width. There were easily over one hundred men in melee pit, not counting the officials.

Due to the thunderstorm that happened yesterday, the Melee had been postponed until today. Amazingly enough, the ground wasn't _too_ muddy and there was a large crowd around the area, most likely due to the presence of the King, the Princess and their Kingsguard. Already, he could see people trying to make allies with one another. None however offered to become allies with him. In fact he received quite a few dark looks.

Arthur surveyed the field for his target before smiling as Gregor and two of his bannermen entered the area. The rules here were brutal, but it only worked to his advantage. At any given time, a man could shout that he yielded and be disqualified. The contestant would then be forced to move on OR be disqualified himself.

Those that were knocked out would be taken from the field until only one contestant remained. Maiming was expected and dismemberment more so. The Melee was not for the faint of heart. He could already see people in smaller groups, eyeing each other up, some, like him, were hoping to settle hostilities between houses through violence.

Arthur did a double take when he saw a red priest here; the man no doubt planning on using his fire 'magic'. They called it magic but... Arthur knew magic. Yesterday the air was saturated in it. It was as if a dam had burst and flooded the world again, the heavy feeling of it was now gone. Looking at his plate covered gauntlets, he felt inside of him, a well of prana, untapped. Despite this, he still couldn't access it. Like any skill, it would need to be learned, worked upon and hone to perfection. Then there was the fact that he needed a weapon that can withstand the prana that would flood his weapon. Simply channeling it into regular steel would break it and he didn't want to break Irisviel.

He heard a Westeros legend that said magic left the world when the last dragon died. Well if magic returned, did that mean a dragon was alive somewhere?

"Hello my friend."

Arthur looked up to see a handsome reddish gold hair, almost as tall as him. "Greetings Ser..."

The man broke into an easy grinned and smiled. "Beric Dondarrion of Blackhaven."

Arthur smiled apologetically. "I'm afraid I am not familiar with the nobles of Westeros."

If anything, the man only grinned wider as he slung his hand around Arthur shoulders. "It's quite all right. In battle, all men are equal. After all, your sword cuts just as well as mine."

Arthur frowned at the man's familiarity but that did not seem to deter the man. "I have joined expecting to do pretty well, but then the Princess and the King joined! I expected to be in a forty man pit, not one of this size."

"It seems... chaotic," Arthur admitted and saw the man was now all smiles.

"Which is why I thought to myself: 'Beric, you need to befriend the nastiest son of a bitch on this field if you want to make it home to your lovely betrothed'."

Arthur raised an eyebrow but waited for the man to continue.

"However, Ser Gregor is out of the picture, which leaves you: the mysterious Black Knight! So what do you say? Care to watch each other's backs? At least until we get to the end?"

"If you prove a liability..." Arthur started but saw the Lord of Blackhaven raise his hand.

"If I slow you down my friend, I'll yield. All I ask is that you ensure no one attacks my blindside." Beric bargained before smiling when Arthur nodded his head once.

"Excellent! If I win, I'll split the winnings with you."

Eventually, the last of the group filtered in, several heavy armored men on horses. They appeared to be from Highgarden and Loras was one of them. It was then the Knight of Flower turned his attention on Arthur and sent him a wink, something that put him ill at ease.

"Looks like you have an admirer! Pity it's the wrong sort," Beric grinned teasingly.

"Arthur! Over here!"

Arthur turned to the stands and saw that the worried looking Hand with his two daughters, and a boy that must have been his son, had taken their seats. Arya was on her seat waving frantically to him, while Sansa appeared to be quite distracted. The younger boy merely looked excited at the gathering and distracted his father by pointing at passing knights.

"Oh, I spoke too soon, your Queen calls you Ser Arthur," the Lord of Blackhaven grinned and shoved Arthur toward the girl. The girl in question was ignoring both her father and a Septa, what they called a nun in this world, who were chastising the girl no doubt for her unladylike behavior.

"Lord Dondarrion," Arthur tilted his head in acknowledgment of the man jest and made his way to the girl. To his surprise, when he reached the railing, the girl jumped at him, forcing him to catch her much like he used to with Daenerys.

"Careful!" Three voices yelled at once. Arthur saw the Hand and the Septa both looking at him in amazement. The other two voices must have been from them. Her sister had an indulgent look while her younger brother gaped at seeing him.

"You have to win today too! You're my Knight Champion after all." Arya commanded, her face solemn and serious. "Too bad father won't let me join. Could you imagine it? Me with _Needle_ watching your back as you swing _Irisviel_ around!"

As if she just came up with the idea she gave one last pleading look to her father but with a firm shake of his head, the Hand denied her request.

"Lord Hand," Arthur greeted as he handed the small girl back over to her father. The man looked exasperated but smiled gratefully at Arthur.

"Forgive my daughter's impudence Ser Arthur," the Hand apologized, making the girl grumble but smiled at him all the same.

"There is nothing to forgive, Lord Hand," Arthur replied and was about to leave when the older sister, Sansa, walked to the railing.

"Forgive me Ser Arthur, but might I trouble you for a request?" Sansa asked Arthur making Arya turned to her sister in shock along with her father.

"Of course," Arthur replied politely wondering what the girl could want, remembering how focused on him she had been the previous day, including when she had been competing in Archery. The girl was skilled in archery if nothing else. "What can I help you with my lady?"

He heard a huff of annoyance from Arya that was quickly silenced by a glare from the Lord Hand.

"May I see Irisviel?" Sansa asked, an uncertain tone in her voice.

Shrugging his shoulders, he nodded and pulled the blade from its scabbard and held it out to her. The girl seemed to close her eyes as she touched the blade, muttering softly under her breath. A moment later she looked up at him and smiled.

"Thank you Ser. It's a very well-crafted blade," Sansa complimented before sitting back down.

A moment later the Crown Prince and the Queen made their way behind the Hand to sit at the main dais. The Crown Prince did look princely but a bit scrawny, though there was callous on his hand to show that he had some skill. The Queen however was a beauty in her own right, almost like an older version of Princess Mordred. It appeared the Princess would age well.

"Joffrey! Get your arse down here!" a girlish voice shouted. There was a splash of water as Arthur found himself standing next to Mordred. Her armor was gray with the golden Baratheon stag engraved on her chest plate and two lion engraved on her shoulders.

"No!" the beautiful Queen rejected on the crown prince behalf.

"Awww, would you stop coddling the boy! I'm in there aren't I?" Mordred taunted as she did a quick spin in front of her mother. "And if I can do it so can he. He should be down here, make it a family affair."

"I said no, I'll not let the next king of the Seven Kingdoms be maimed just because you want to have fun!" the Queen's tone brooked no argument as she glared at her daughter.

Suddenly Mordred's glare disappeared, replaced by a coy smile. "Don't you think a boy should fight by his father's side? If not how about Uncle Jaime?"

The Queen looked stricken by her daughter's words as her eyes darted to where the king and his kingsguard were gathered before turning red with rage.

"Wish us luck mother!" Mordred, as if having already achieving her aims, gave the Queen a jauntily salute and skipped back to the king forces.

Arthur saw the dark hair king talked with his daughter before she pointed over to where the Queen and Crown prince was standing. There appeared to be a surprised look on the king face before both father and daughter began to laugh boisterously while pointing over to where the Queen was, Mordred earned yet another gale of laughter from her father by puffing out her cheeks.

"But I wanted to join mother, I need to prove that I am worthy of my sister's... praise, her praises that is!" Crown Prince Joffrey Baratheon amended as to not be misconstrued.

"Arthur!" Arya shouted to get his attention. The girl was leaning on the railing and beckoning him to come closer. When he leaned down, he was surprise to feel a little sensation on his cheek. It was as if a butterfly landed on his cheek. Eyes wide in amazement he looked down at the red faced girl. Apparently, he wasn't the only one surprised as her father and sister were also staring at her.

"That- That's for luck, so you better go out there and win!"

"...right," Arthur nodded and bowed low earning another smile from her. "I will try my best my lady."

"You're damn right..." the little girl muttered under her breath.

"Arya!" the Septa admonished but the girl was seated again.

Arthur smiled and turned to make his back to Lord Dondarrion-

"Ser Arthur, a moment if you please."

-when the Queen asked him to stop. Schooling his face he bowed low. "Your Grace?"

"Do you consider yourself skilled with the blade?" the Queen of the Seven Kingdom asked, her frosty demeanor not unlike Guinevere's.

"I am skilled enough to get by Your Grace," Arthur admitted.

"Then I would consider it a great favor if you defeat Mordred in combat-"

"But Mother that would mea-" The Crown prince had protested but was silence by a single look from his mother.

"-and for it I shall give you a reward of 400,000 dragons."

"Your Grace!" the Lord hand spoke up alarm on his face.

"Do not worry Lord Hand; it will come from Casterly Rock, not the Kingdom." The Queen declared imperiously. Apparently it was enough as the Lord Hand nodded his head and looked relieved.

"Do we have a deal?"

The Queen was looking as him expectantly before he shook his head, shocking the queen. "In battle, no one can guarantee anything. I will try to keep her in mind but I cannot guarantee anything."

"Hmmm, not stupid," the Queen murmured as her green eyes examined him like one. "Most knights would promise anything and I have gotten use to empty promises. Honesty. How refreshing."

"Your Grace?" Arthur asked hoping to be dismissed now.

The Queen smiled thinly as if determining his worth before nodding. "My offer still stands. If you beat her, 400,000 Dragons will be yours along with another prize."

"But Mo-" The crown prince started up again before the Queen silence him with yet another glare. The blond prince could only pout as he shot Arthur a murderous glare.

"You may go," The Queen dismissed with a wave of her hand.

Arthur dipped his head in acknowledgment and retreated.

"Kick their arses!"

"ARYA!"

When he made it back to Beric he saw the man looking at him wide eyed. "You-You spoke to the Queen?"

"She request a boon of me and I told her it was not within my power to grant it," Arthur replied as he saw the officials starting to filter in, looking up the now clear blue sky, he noticed no odd weather pattern like the day before.

"Oh is it anything I can help with?" Beric asked eagerly. The lord of Blackhaven was obviously looking for a way to get in the good graces of their lord liege.

"Apparently, defeat her daughter in combat," Arthur commented as he got into a corner opposite of the princess but closer to Gregor with Beric following. His answered however seemed to knock the wind out of the knight.

"Yeah... that's not going to happen." Beric's shoulders shagged dejectedly even as he and Arthur put on their helms. "She's damn near unbeatable by herself and now the King and his Kingsguard is there with Jaime Lannister, you had a better chance of finding a virgin whore at Lord Baelish brothel."

"_MELEE CONTESTANTS! PREPARE YOURSELVES! FOR THE HONOR OF YOUR HOUSE AND KINGDOM!"_

The Crier shouted as he looked over to the Queen, who held out a silken handkerchief. There was tangible tension in the arena as Beric and Arthur nodded to each other. Arthur had already unsheathed his bastard blade, and Beric had his sword and shield at the ready.

"Fight well!" the Queen shouted as she tossed the piece of cloth in the air. The fighters waited anxiously for the piece of cloth to hit the ground.

Arthur scanned the crowd behind his helm and stuck close by Bedric as the cloth fluttered one last time in the wind before it landed.

The roar of the fighters rumbled through the arena, even Arthur as he turned to the enemy closest to him and struck him with all his strength sending the man flying a few feet on his back. In the same swinging motion he brought the sword down on another man shoulder biting into his plate.

"I yield!" the Knight with a raven crest on it shouted immediately as Arthur pulled his blade free.

All through the field the sound of metal crashing into metal resounded. The mounted men, thinking they had an advantage were pulled from their horses and beaten until they yielded.

"Come on Ser Arthur!" Beric shouted happily as he smashed his shield into one knight and hammered down with his sword onto the beaten knight over and over again.

Arthur ducked under a flail and stabbed his bastard sword into his attacker's thigh, making him cry out in pain. Pulling it out quickly, he cut the man's other leg forcing him to forfeit as he fought his way to Beric who appeared to be holding his own quite well until three men surrounded him.

Immediately, Arthur charged the first one hitting him with such force he flopped into the mud face first obviously concussed. Without losing his momentum, he spun around and swung at the second attacker, a giant man with an axe to match, who brought the shaft of his weapon into the path of his attack in an attempt to block, only for the force behind the swing cause him to stagger.

Arthur then rammed into the man with his shoulder, knocking him off balance before he put his sword at the man's throat.

"I yield!" the axe wielder shouted quickly before the blade could go through his armor.

Pulling the blade away, Arthur blocked two incoming strikes, flicking the two blades away. It was Lancel Lannister, the jouster from the day before, and another man he didn't recognize. They then both proceeded to attack, forcing him onto the defensive until he had backed up to the railing.

"You're mine!" Lancel shouted as he charged at Arthur with a fast swing.

Arthur, anticipating the move, quickly brought his blade up to redirect the swing while simultaneously grabbing Lancel by the scruff of his neck and using the momentum to toss him out of the arena. Preparing to deal with his second adversary, he turned around, only to see the man on his knees and weapon in the ground with his hands raised.

"I yield!" the red armored Lannister man shouted.

Arthur turned to see Beric, who had finished off his own attackers, begin to move towards him. It was then Thoros of Myr, the red priest, attacked Beric with his flaming blade.

The spectators 'ohh' in awed at seeing a flaming sword, some of the highborn lady even shouting in fright. The red priest of R'hllor was pretty skilled with the blade and many of the fighters around the two gave them a wide berth.

Making his way to his partner, he beat down five more men in his way when he heard a loud cheer erupted form the audience and a name chanted.

"_Robert! Robert! Robert! Robert! Robert!"_

The king's hammer had struck a horse right on its chest caving it instantly and tossed the Knight of Flower, Loras, off his horse and onto his face. The fat king raised his hammer and roared louder as if challenging anyone to come near him. The kingsguard, to their credit, were dispatching all attackers with ease, letting few stragglers get to the king and the princess.

Suddenly there was a loud gasp as the priest of R'hollor was forcefully removed from the competition by Gregor Clegane whom had barrel into both Beric and Priest. The eight foot giant smashed into the red priest frame and sent his flaming sword into the mud, snuffing it out.

Gregor wielded a sword that was as tall as a man with both hands and stalked up to the red priest, who were trying to get up but was in no condition to yield. The Mountain brought his blade down onto the red priest, intending to behead the man when Beric jumped in front of his attack and took the full brunt of the blow.

The fame knight had been surprised by the interference but looked none too pleased as he let out a loud roar and began to hammer the sword over and over into Beric shield, denting it with each strike caving it inward. Beric was holding onto the shield for dear life as far as Arthur could tell until he sagged limply on top of the red priest body.

"Beric!" a female scream the name full of anguish from the direction of the nobles stand.

Arthur was already making his way to the Mountain, running at full speed. Gregor had kicked the shield away and expose Beric as he raised his sword to finish the job.

"Gregor!" Arthur shouted making the Mountain freeze to see who dared challenge him as he jumped behind the Mountain's back and grabbing his neck ring. Using the momentum of the run he was able to twist the Mountain away from Beric and sent him flat on his face.

Immediately Gregor's two companions, wearing the symbol of House Clegane, the three black dogs, attacked Arthur. Arthur however, had no patience for the two and in two swift motions, cut the sword arms off of the Mountain's two retainers, the two men falling to their knees, clutching their open wounds screaming in pain.

"S-Ser Arthur?"

Arthur turned around to see Beric arm's limp by his side, most likely broken.

"You need to yield. Now."

"R-right, my gratitude, Ser Arthur." Beric nodded as he declared his forfeiture. The red priest, Thoros, unable to get up also was taken from the field.

"You back stabbing bitch!" the King roar in outrage a distance away. "We were winning!"

"Goodbye father~" the Princess gleefully answered the king's in a saccharine tone.

Anything else was not his concern as the Mountain got back up to his feet and ripped off his helm, his eyes blood shot with rage.

Grabbing his sword, the Mountain of a man stood to his impressive height, snorting through his nose like a bull.

Arthur followed suit, taking off his helm and tossing it to the side, making eye contact with the giant.

"You shouldn't have interfered. Now I will destroy that pretty face of yours," the Mountain rumbled menacingly lifting up his large broadsword.

"And you will answer for your crimes today, Gregor Clegane," Arthur replied firmly.

"Crime?" Gregor scoff, sounding almost amused. "Which one?"

Arthur eyes swung his sword experimentally and looked at the Mountain. "The rape of Elia Martell Targaryen and the murder of her two children; Aegon and Rhaenys."

Gregor looked confused a bit before he started to laugh out loud. "Ah, is this WHAT this is all about?! Do you think you are the first? What are you some Dorne assassin, those cunts down at Sunspear don't have the guts to come after me like a real man?"

"They wanted too," Arthur replied evenly, barely aware that the field was now silent, the spectators looking on. "But I asked them for the honor of killing you, unless you would like to yield, tuck your head between your tail and run like the dog you are."

Gregor growled at the insult, his blood lust starting up in full force again. "If you are not working for those Dornish cunts, then who the fuck you are, why do you care about the Martell bitch and her fucking spawn?"

Arthur raised his sword arm up and got into stance. "I care because that was my goodsister, my niece and nephew you butchered."

Gregor eyes appeared confused before his eyes widen and he stared. "You can't mean to tell me that you are-"

"I was born Viserys Targaryen, and I am here to be your executioner," Arthur replied in a calm tone, he ignored the gasped and heard the sound of blades being drawn.

"Sheath your swords! Now!" Princess Mordred authoritative voice could be heard through the silence. Moments later sword being slide back into their scabbards could be heard.

"Gregor Clegane, for your crimes of raping Princess Elia Martell Targaryen and murdering her children afterward, I hereby sentence you to death."

"You got it wrong dragon spawn," Gregor laughed as he looked at Arthur directly into his eyes. "I actually bashed her children head in front of the bitch first THEN I raped her!"

And without any warning but a roar, the Mountain charged and swung his sword with the full might of his strength.

Arthur heard the pride in Gregor voice and growled as he too charged and swung his sword to meet that of Gregor's. There was ten different ways he could have killed the Mountain, he only needed one.

**CLANG!**

The Mountain face echo his surprised as his arm was jarred from the impact.

"Impossible!"

The Mountain swung down his sword once more, only to have the shock from the clash travel up his arm.

"No! How can a dragon shit like you be stronger than me?!" Gregor shouted in disbelief.

The two traded brute strength blows as the two heavy sword rang out loudly and sparked as they came together violently. To to all amazement, it was the Mountain who recoiled unsteadily each time from the exchange. As if proving himself superior and faster than Gregor could recover, Arthur pulled his sword back and struck out again, severing the Mountain hand from his wrist.

"Argggh! My hand you fucker!" Gregor cried looking at his stump in disbelief.

"That was for killing Aegon," Arthur calmly stated and then lashed out once more and cut Gregor's other hand, making the man scream in pain as he sank to his knees looking at the two bleeding stumps where his hands use to be. "And that was for sweet Rhaenys."

For the first time, Gregor looked fearful since their fight began, he then look down to see Arthur's sword pointing towards his crotch. "No... please..."

With a strong push, his sword slid slowly into the Mountain's crotch gelding as him. The Mountain let out a high pitch scream as he was unmanned.

"And that was for Elia," Arthur informed the Mountain who was trying to cover his bleeding crotch with his bloodied stumps. In one smooth motion, he kicked the Mountain chest and made him fall onto his back.

Walking imperiously on the Mountain's body, he made eye contact with the giant. Taking his sword, he rested the tip of his blade on the Mountains neck.

"Elia, Rhaenys, Ageon, rest in peace, I now send your murderer to the Seven Hells," Arthur recited the words clearly for all to hear as he continued to stare in the eyes of the Mountain which was now laced with fear.

Easing onto the blade, he saw the Mountain struggle as the blade sank into his throat as blood bubbled out from his mouth. Gregor Clegane gave one final shudder of his massive body before he became still.

Suddenly there was a clap; it started at the noble stands before spreading to the small folk. Not caring but wanting to finish the job, he flicked his wrist and separated the Mountain's head from his shoulders. Grabbing the Mountain head, he looked over to his personal bodyguard that was near the railings and tossed the head to him.

His bodyguards were to take the Mountain's head to Prince Doran as fast as possible. The people were still too stunned and the tourney made the outer area of the city lightly defended. Looking back up, he saw Prince Oberyn and his mistress standing on their feet clapping.

He turned to where Sansa was and saw her embracing Arya's head into her bosom, the look the red head gave him was one of approval. Surprisingly enough, Lord Eddard Stark was also looking at him in approval.

"Arrest that Dragon Spawn!" Robert bellow loudly as the guards started to move in formation.

Arthur grimace as he prepared to fight his way out. He saw Prince Oberyn escort closing in on the Gold Cloaks to run interference for him.

"Stand down!" Mordred shouted making the Gold cloak hesitate and look to their king who was looking angry but not at them but at his daughter.

"You dare go against me on this girl?! Do you know what th-"

"Oh maiden tits!" Princess Mordred shouted as she pointed over Arthur. "I don't give a shit if he's the Night King himself. This Melee contest is not over yet."

Robert face redden even more. "You want to talk about Melee when there could be an upris-"

"Does that look like someone that is going to lead a rebellion to reclaim his lost land?!" Mordred shouted as she pointed to Arthur in disbelief. "He is here alone and armed with only a sword. We could kill him a hundred different ways if we wanted too. It would be foolish for him to not show up here with an army that could actually challenge you."

"And what would you know about sedition?!" Robert shouted back glaring at his daughter who, to Arthur's surprise, began to shift uncomfortably.

"Look," Mordred began before she looked over at Arthur and narrowed her eyes at the other knights still in the Melee. "No one leaves!"

The other contestant froze in place not sure how to take this new awkward revelation.

Arthur watched as the princess rushed over to her father and started talking quickly while pointing to him, then at the rest of the contestant. He watched Robert's face change from rage to sullen to contemplative.

Finally, to his surprise, Robert beckoned him over to the dais, he could see the Kingsguard looking at him warily as are the gold cloaks. He could see Oberyn face look worry, but a short curt nod made Oberyn remain in his seat.

Robert stared down at Arthur, who returned the gaze unflinchingly.

"Oh come on, enough of this male posturing, just talk already!" Mordred exasperatedly chimed in looking at her father.

"You know, when I killed your brother he looked very surprised as if he couldn't believe that he'd be killed," Robert began still staring down at him before he lifted up his war mace. "This was that very same warhammer I used at the Trident to cave his chest in, and then to make sure, I bashed it in over and over again until the river was ran red with his blood."

There was an audible gasp and even the Queen looked a bit ill. Robert eyes however never left Arthur's face.

"As far as I am concerned," Arthur spoke up slowly looking at Robert. "Rhaegar got exactly what he deserved."

Robert's eyes, which had been glaring at him, widened in surprised. Arthur could feel a lot of eyes on him, most insistent was those of Lord Eddard Stark and two of the Kingsguard.

"You really expect me to believe that?" Robert asked in surprised. "He was your family, your kin!"

"He was filled with lust over a woman, set his own wife aside, abandoned his kingdom, and then left my goodsister and other family members to die with but a single Kingsguard to guard them," Arthur replied flatly, still maintaining eye contact with Robert. "He was no kin of mine when he caused my family's downfall and kept my sister and I on the run from your assassins. I spit on Rhaegar's name."

Robert frowned at that. "I never sent assassins after you. In fact, after your lot disappeared altogether, I thought you were dead somewhere."

This time it was Arthur's turn to be shocked, having searched Robert for any falsehood and finding none.

"Truly?"

"On my King's Honor," Robert declared fiercely. "Don't get me wrong, I wanted too, but when no words of you or your sister came after years. I assumed you two died in a ditch somewhere."

"No, we did not," Arthur replied musing now on who could have sent assassins after him and his sister.

"So do you have dreams of the throne boy?" Robert asked suddenly looking at Arthur. "Want this crown off my head?"

"No," Arthur replied immediately looking at the crown. "My family forfeited all rights to the crown when they became Tyrant and put their will over that of the people."

The only sound that he could hear now was the soft breathing around him. The Hand was looking at him something to surprise while Robert and Mordred appeared shocked by his answer.

"You... willingly admit that?" Robert asked, his face only showing trace amount of confusion. "You call your own family Tyrants Viserys?"

Arthur could feel all eyes on him again and replied with conviction, never breaking eye contact with Robert. "A Just rule with, with Just laws, those were the duties my family was responsible for, they failed, is it a wonder then why the people rose up against them?"

Robert appeared stunned once more by his answer. "But, they are your family... you were once in power, anyone would trade their very souls for such a life, to wield such power."

"The only family I have and care about now-" Arthur began slowly. "-is my sister. So long as she is safe, I am content with just living out the rest of my days in Essos."

Robert fell silent after that, his face still searching Arthur's.

"You really mean that don't you," Robert asked in genuine amazement.

"What good is gaining me a kingdom that hates my family anyway?" Arthur asked sensibly. "The Vale would never forget what my farther done; the Stormlands would never forgive what my brother has done. The North will always remember what they lost to my family. Then there is Tywin and the Lannisters, hardly reliable."

"Hey!" Mordred spoke up but Robert gave her a look that made her take on a sheepish expression. "Well... they're family..."

The Queen pressed her lips tighter together but said nothing.

"The Targaryen era is over," Arthur stated firmly, his statement sending shock wave through the stands. "My sister and I renounced all claims to the throne if that help alleviate any of your... concerns."

"You must have known it was suicide to come here today in front of so many of your enemies," Robert spoke up again giving Arthur an unreadable look.

"I was honor bound to," Arthur answered still maintain eye contact. "This is the only time Gregor Clegane would have been out in the open. I had to avenge Elia and the children."

There was a brief flash of shame across Robert's face before he drew himself back up to his full height. "Well then Viserys-"

"Arthur," Arthur corrected looking at the confused man. "I have discarded the name Viserys a long time ago. Arthur is my name now."

"Arthur? Truly? Not after Arthur Dayne?" Robert asked in a genuinely curious tone.

"No," Arthur replied harshly making Robert and Mordred blink.

"You don't like him either do you," Robert inquired as he searched Arthur's face.

"Because of my respect for the Dayne family, I will not speak ill of their dead, but Arthur _is_ my name. I have worn it for most of my life since I fled Westeros. It is who I am."

Robert then turned to look the Lord Hand. "What do I do Ned? Here is the last dragon son that could be a threat to my throne. What does my Hand suggest?"

Arthur noticed that Arya was looking at him wide eye but also looking at her father with a pleading expression. Sansa looked sadly at him but also look to her father.

"I think the Prince-"

"Former, I have no kingdom to be a prince of," Arthur corrected the Hand and saw the man's startled expression.

Some type of expression passed through his face before he nodded as if coming to a conclusion. "Then, I think Arthur here, the last of the Targaryens, is an honorable man and therefore speaks the truth. You know how I felt about what Gregor did, what a stain it was on your rule. He came here all this way, out of hiding from the safety of his home, where ever that may be, to avenge his goodsister, his niece and nephew. He said he is not here to incite rebellion, and I believe him."

Robert looked on as his Lord Hand fell silent and looked to his daughter who merely looked on expectantly. Finally he looked up to the sky then back down to Arthur.

"As hard as it is to believe, I do believe you," Robert spoke up finally after a long pause.

"Thank you, Your Grace," Arthur allowed himself a small smile and was thankful that he would not have to fight his way out of King's Landing.

"Bring me some bread and salt!" Robert bellowed as he stood up. A few moments later, a servant scramble with a plate of bread with some salt on in a small bow. With a turn of his head he directed the servant to Arthur.

There was a loud gasp from the crowd at the significance of the gesture. Robert was offering him, a Targaryen, his most hated enemy, Guest Rights. To swear to the very gods that he would never be harmed under by Robert under his roof, in all of the Seven Kingdoms.

"You are not what I expected," Arthur said meaningfully as he took the bread, dipped it in the salt and ate the piece in front of the King.

"Aye, and neither are you what I expected," Robert rebutted before he sat back down on the chair. "You are free to leave."

"He can't!" Mordred cried out in alarm. "The Melee competition is not over, not until I beat him. Come on, you know you want to see a Baratheon battle a Targaryen again."

Robert actually looked interested in the proposition as he looked appraising at his daughter. Arthur however, would not overstay his welcome.

"No need Princess, as much as it would displease Lady Arya, I will forfeit, the victory is yours."

Mordred look gobsmacked as Robert shrugged and Cersei sighed. Surely she couldn't still have hoped for him to fight her daughter knowing his true identity. Oberyn looked relieved and even gave him a small wink.

With a polite bow, he turned around and made to leave the area.

"Like hell you are!" Princess Mordred growled as he heard her pulled her blade and attacked. Responding quickly, he blocked her first strike expertly but was amazed at the sheer strength behind it. Then faster than he anticipated, she slashed at his side. He immediately brought his blade down to block, but she did a quick turned and hammer the blade into his other side, only narrowly being blocked by a hasty movement.

The two exchanged a flurry of blows, the sound of their steel clashing filling the stadium before he locked her blade on his and pushed her away.

Once more there was stunned silence at the skilled that was just displayed. Robert, who had been just as shocked as everyone else, cleared his head first.

"You know," Robert focused on Arthur while drumming his fingers on his chair. "I think I would like to see this fight after all."

Crown Prince Joffrey, however, looked panicked and look to his father. "But what if he wi-"

Anything else the crown prince wanted to saw was silence with a look from the king. He then turned his attention to Arthur.

"You know, you should finish this competition. You came this far." Robert spoke up surprising everyone else, but there was a strange glint in his eyes as they darted back and forth between the two fighters.

Mordred glared at the King for a moment for pointing two fingers to her eyes and motion toward Robert. She then got into a ready stance and grinned at Arthur.

"Ready to re-enact the Battle of the Trident Ser Arthur?" Mordred asked cheekily, her eyes portraying her certainty in her victory. Something in her looks irked him, was he not Arturia king of Britannia at one time? There was no pride as a Targaryen anymore but as Arthur and a Pendragon? Yes there was!

"There is only one notable difference if we are to re-enact that duel," Arthur got into a ready stance with his blade.

"Oh?" Mordred began to rotate her wrist moving her swords in lazy motion. "And what would that be?"

"I'm not Rhaegar." With that he rushed to meet the princess on the battlefield.

TBC!

UpNext: Battle of the Trident 2!

AN: We Riding High now... And nuts and bolts are so lose it's not even funny. Quick, someone come and tighten this as I make a pit stop!

First a big thank you to Cheeser, the only editor on this fic. He work hard so you guys don't have to! Second is UN and Icura who let me bounce ideas back and forth as sounding boards. Third, to everyone that put in a nice fat review, those observation were awesome and made me think.

I can't believe I am saying this but ever heard of the expression, a story writes itself? I started this with a three basic idea. Fate Stay night characters mythos + Westeros world with a dash of magic cement by humor. Somehow... Someway. I now have a true outline for a story... THere is an endgame, a true goal so to speak... and I am surprise it presented itself to me. Before I started I would have never seen that but... yeah. New outland and well, lots more...Westeros and FSN crossing over.

So what is up with that thing with Sansa-Shirou? I will say there will be no blatant use of magic like FSN series. So no PEW PEW LASZERS BLAST! Magic out the wahzu. There instead will be inspired magic of FSN made to fit in westeros world.

I can show you my secret Excerpt of what would happen if I gave everyone their ability in Westeros:

Saber: Excalibur!

Westeros royals are in awe, bend knee to Saber.

Saber: Hail to the King.

Saber Steam Rolls everything, Why? Because it's fucking Saber with Excaliblast! Or Sub Saber for Archer who just UBW everything into submission.

The End.

It would be a very short fic. Less then 500 words I should say. It's just not in me to do it.

So yeah, hope you guys enjoy this fic for what it is, I have been told my writing is subpar or barely passable. I appreciate those feedbacks too! After all like I always say.

C+C (Comment and Criticism) are welcome, Reviews are appreciated.


	8. Chapter 7

Game of Thrones belong to G.R.R.M

Fate Stay Night belong to Type Moon

Special Thanks: Cheesers as always doing work! DOING WORK!

A Throne Nobody Wants

Chapter 7

***King's Landing- Mordred***

Just before she could attack Arthur, Mordred pivoted away from the incoming attack and rushed toward the remaining combatants instead.

"Princess?!" A knight from a minor house called out in alarm before she struck him at full power, no longer holding back.

Speeding through the others, she took down a man that wield a smaller hammer than her 'father's' before smashing her pommel into his forehead, knocking him out.

She felt Arthur's behind her moments later as he started to dispatch the remaining knights. She saw Ser Barristan Selmy, who had been allowed back by virtue of never having been eliminated looking at her. Barristan the Bold they called him, she had to scoff at that, the man had surrendered as soon as she headed straight for him.

Coward.

Of course that still left her 'Uncle' Jaime on the field.

Mordred had been in the process of dispatching the Kingsguard when the execution of Ser Gergor Clegane happened, and it WAS an execution. The Mountain never stood a chance against the intriguing Black Knight. Who would've ever guessed that he was Viserys fucking Targaryen! It was like something out of a fairytale sung by bards; the handsome exiled prince, returning as a mysterious knight to avenge his family. Already her handmaidens were swooning upon realizing the implication of what had transpired.

Mordred saw the last of the knights, a man with a large axe, looking at her before he took a wide swing at her. She quickly ducked under the blow before punching him in his mouth, the man foolishly leaving his visor up. She watched as he dropped his axe clutching at his mouth, broken teeth and blood pouring into his hands as the officials disqualified him.

She turned around to seek out her 'Uncle' Jaime but saw him engaged in a furious duel with the Black Knight. She saw her mother out of the corner of her eyes, who was very invested in the fight. Of course the brother fucking bitch would be! Her father was cheering the fight on but she knew it wasn't for dear old Uncle Jaime. The glare her mother shot at him only confirmed that, Joffrey's eyes were on her, as was proper, maybe he'd learn something. Little Mrycella and Tommen were following Uncle Jaime of course, he with his golden armor and shining golden hair, cut quite a dashing figure.

That was when Mordred saw the blush on her baby sister's cheek. It appears that little Mrycella was paying attention to the wrong blond. She scoffed at Visy- Arthur foolishness. You simply cannot QUIT being a Prince, you were born one. Even if he was destitute or became a beggar in the street, the blood line of royalty ran through his veins. That was an indisputable fact. Not so much for her of course. She was a bastard, but people did not need to know that and as long as she drew breath, they never would.

_'Note to self, try to arrange for Baelish and Varys 'accidents' after the tourney.'_

The eunuch and the Master of Coin were starting to move against her family again. Varys by giving Lord Eddard the lineage book, which she swore she had '_accidentally_' burned the last copy of, and dear old Petyr trying to whisper insinuations of incest in the new Hand ears.

Thankfully, this huge tourney had distracted him and given her ample time to take care of the... problems. Varys' mistake was thinking no one would pay attention to children sneaking around. Most of the adults in Westeros didn't, she wouldn't have either if not for the fact that when she was a child Varys was more careless around her and the little children he used as his network of spies were more open.

Varys' children were taught to be wary of adults. Not three year old princesses, who had disguised herself as a street urchin to get away from her mother. Varys had been careful, his children much less so. A kind gesture here, sharing food there to the children her age earned their trust. She found that Varys children were mute, but they could read and write. Commoner children should not be able to read and as she got older, she paid attention to those children in and around the Red Keep. Varys' spy network was truly impressive but she knew how to circumvent it.

Then of course there was Petyr, who was a much simpler man, but clever none the less. He simply bribed key people in positions of power while using his whore house to pick up information from loose lips. Thankfully as she got older, she was able to send in her own whores as double agents and, no matter how much money Petyr offered them, she maintained their loyalty by ensuring the protection of their children.

So after the tourney, she would have to arrange nice little accidents for the two, of course not at the same time. She'd have to spread out their death as to not draw suspicion.

_'Hmm, Varys or Peytr, Peytr or Varys... hmmm...'_

Looking at the fight between Arthur and 'Uncle' Jaime, she let out huffed breath as the man was clearly outmatch but decided to prolong the fight by staying on the defensive. Probably was hoping to get in a lucky hit somewhere. She didn't have time for this. It's not every day you get to fight a Targaryen. She looked at her mother, drawing her attention before beaming her a smile.

Her mother narrowed her eyes and glared at her. The woman knew her too well. With her mother eyes still on her she made for a dead run at her dear Uncle.

"Jaime!" Her mother shout could be heard making her brother head look in direction too late as Mordred swung the flat of her blade at her Uncle's back thigh putting him onto his back.

A moment later she stabbed her blade into his upper thigh, eliciting a horrified scream from her mother.

"Yield uncle!" Mordred demanded looking at green eyes so like her own.

Her 'Uncle' to his credit merely winced and raised his arm in submission. "You, my dear niece, are too troublesome."

Mordred watched as two official came to help her uncle to his feet and support him on his way out. She had made sure to stab him near his groin area so as to cool his ardor for her mother. No need to leave anything to chance, she doubt even the fanciest whore in King's Landing could get the handsome Kingsguard 'up' at the moment.

Her uncle motioned for the officials to stop and turned to her with letting out a small hiss of pain as he put some weight on his injured leg. "You know my beloved niece, I have never bet against family, Lannisters never do, but for you, I'll make an exception."

Arthur naturally looked confused while she herself was merely amused. "Oh? Are you going against a Lannisters now _Uncle_?"

"You're a Baratheon _niece_," Jaime replied smoothly before he turned to Arthur. "I am going to wager on your victory, Ser Arthur, and hope to get a proper rematch later."

"I'm hurt but I wager I don't need your goodwill," Mordred grinned arrogantly, much like how her 'uncle' was known to do from time to time. "I am going to win."

Her uncle gave her a matching grinned and looked at Ser Arthur again. "Help us get rid of her and I will be indebted to you and a Lannister always pays their debts."

Arthur, of course, only became more confused, looking between her 'uncle' and herself quizzically.

_'Don't tell me he doesn't know about... Oh this is marvelous.'_

Men who usually tried for her hand in marriage usually fought differently. Men that fight to win were different. They were not afraid of giving her a real fight and Mordred loved a good fight. Besides, he had proven to be the best of the lot, and if she wanted to reign as champion, she would have to beat him and not by forfeiture. The fact that she herself was fighting to remain single motivated her greatly.

He didn't stand a chance.

"Looks like it is down to us Ser Arthur," She greeted the black armored knight. He was handsome in a rugged sort of way. His skin was also a lot more tanned, sort of like a very light bronze. Still, she didn't plan on losing to him.

"My Lady," Arthur dipped his head in respect and got into a ready stance that she matched.

"Ser," Mordred replied before she charged forward and swung her blade quickly with all her strength, intending to end the fight quickly.

**CLANG!**

She had to admit, she was impressed with the man's speed and strength as the two blades locked. His response to her attack was quick and efficient. However, she wasn't done yet!

Pushing against him, she went for a quick horizontal strike, only to be knocked off course from a vertical strike from him. Once more, their blades were locked as she could feel him testing her strength. She was abnormally strong for a girl her age, she knew that, but she figured it might have something regarding her true origin and till this day, she had never met anybody quite as strong as her.

"Impressive Ser," She dipped her head in acknowledgment. "Let's see how truly skilled you are."

She broke the stalemate by backing up before, focusing, she breathed softly and prepared for her next attack. He had proven strong; let's see how he did against her full speed.

"Hah!" Mordred charged and closed the gap between them quickly. Then, gripping her sword with two hands, she began to quickly slash at him. She suppressed any reaction when she felt her blade meet resistance, but instead moved it again to attack from another angle. And then another. And then another. Each time, she was met resistance she quickly struck someplace else. She unleashed her full storm of attacks on Ser Arthur's person and, as expected, he began to fall back. Sensing the retreat, she began to herd him toward the arena rails.

She did not dare let up for a single instant as she forced him on the defensive, even scoring the occasional glancing blow on his armor. Then as she was about to pin Arthur against the protective railing around the arena, something shifted. Her warrior instincts warned her of an incoming attack and she reacted, blocking a strike, then a second, then a third.

Mordred cleared her mind of all other thoughts as she blocked strike after strike from Arthur. Still, she refused to budge but found herself unable to push back the man any further. She had never encountered anyone like this before! Slowly, yet surely, somehow, the battle shifted once more and not from her lack of skill. For the first time in this world, she found someone that could push back at her in swordplay.

It was, however, during the last exchange of blows that she felt herself parried and exposed before Arthur's sword swiftly came down at her head for a killing blow. Before she realized what she was doing, she had pedaled backward and out of reach. Yet, just as she registered that HE had made HER retreat, he rushed her like a bull.

Mordred remained on the defensive, lest she lose an important body part. The harmony of her sword skill have been disrupted and that she was mainly relying on her reflexes to defend herself now.

The sound of steel clashing, once sweet, began to grate on her ears. There were openings in Arthur's attacks but she could not capitalize on them. Furthermore, she noticed that her arms were slowly becoming numb due to the strength behind the blows that came down on her like a sledge hammer.

Without warning, the attacks ceased, her sword swinging wildly in the air. Confused, she looked to her opponent only to see the beginnings of a thrust. With the strength behind that strike, she would never be able to deflect it without getting maimed.

Flipping her blade onto its flat side she brought it down to shield her belly just in time as the point of Arthur sword struck. The force from the attack was such that she found herself rock on her heels. Even then she was already recovering when she felt Arthur blade coming down swiftly overheard, aimed between her neck and shoulders. Reflexively, she brought the blade up to block.

Under normal circumstances, she'd be able to set her feet and absorb the blow, but she'd been trying to regain her balance and Arthur had put his entire weight behind that last strike. Though she blocked the strike, barely, she found herself losing the purchase beneath her feet and felt herself falling onto to her back.

Immediately, she tried to recover her balance but Arthur swung once more, coming in a wide arc from the side and hammered her completely to the ground, only by angling her sword across her body was she able to blocked the fatal strike. Before she could even think about rolling to her side and getting back up, Arthur's foot was already on her sword, pinning it against her chest.

The next thing Mordred knew, she found the edge of his sword pressed against her neck.

"Yield." Arthur state simply.

Mordred was extremely angry at herself, cursing her weakness, before she noticed Arthur's own expression. His face was flushed and he was breathing heavily, showing how far he had pushed himself in order to defeat her. It wasn't easy for him, and his eyes demanded her submission. There was steel to them that felt familiar, one that no longer existed in this world. One that she had once served in another lifetime and one that she found herself nodding to in submission now.

"I... yield." Mordred stated softly and noticed that the silence was deafening. It was then she realized something else and her face paled.

She had been defeated. She, Mordred Baratheon had been defeated! That meant that... Mordred eyes flickered to Arthur even as she felt him ease up and removed his blade from her neck.

He was to be her husband.

Unfortunately that was when Robert's booming laughter echo out across the yard.

Mordred sighed and allowed herself a moment to relax on the ground. "Mother fu-"

+++Robert+++

"Bwahahahaha!" Robert found himself laughing non-stop as he pointed at his daughter. He couldn't even speak anymore as he nudged his wife to join him in his mirth. To his surprise, the frigid bitch actually had a wide smile, while his two youngest children were clapping happily.

Joffrey however looked heart broken. Robert wasn't stupid, contrarily to what people thought! He seen the way Joffrey looked at Mordred. Joffrey wanted to fuck her. Well he had news for the boy, ain't no brother going to be fucking their sister under his watch!

Still, today was a great day indeed! As he continued to laugh, he could feel the nerves on his stomach clenching painfully tight as he tried to (unsuccessfully) bring his mirth under control.

"My King, Please..." Ned, his best friend had rushed over to his side as he began to guffaw.

"He- Heh Hee! He did it Ned!" Robert wheezed out painfully between laughter as he gripped his friend's arm and continued to chortle.

His friend looked at him as if he was crazy. Of course he would. Ned didn't have to live with Mordred! He didn't have to put up with her smart mouth and her clever words. He never had to deal with the fall out of her temper tantrums. Why there was the time where the rumor that his cock had the rot barred him from the whorehouse for a while. He was certain Mordred started that rumor because he denied taxing whorehouses!

He could have forced the whores to sleep with him but he was no rapist. He wasn't Rhaegar!

No, his friend, his brother all but in blood, would never understand why he was so giddy. He had resigned himself living miserably to the end of his days. When the girl was younger, she had been less forceful, less cunning and had less power. But as she got older, she was more difficult to deal with. He loved the girl, she was the darling of his heart, truly, but he could see the shift in power.

Why just earlier he had order the dragonspawn arrested but she countermanded his order. HE, the King of the entire Seven Kingdom, had his orders defied! Yet, the amount people that once listen to him or Cersei were growing shorter by the day. When she was but one and ten, she had told him she was going to run the kingdom from Joffrey's shadow. He had laughed and indulged her then.

Now at six and ten, he could only be fearful that it was already happening. Joffrey, the weak little puissant bend to his sister every whim. However, when caught between him and Mordred, Joffrey feared the girl more than his own father, even his own mother!

He couldn't even begin to fathom how the girl had attained so much power in such a short time. He was proud that she had, and it had been great to see Cersei and the rest of the fucks on the small council fucked over by her and her little plots. But then she began to cross lines.

First, she would do things in his name and nobody would question it. He didn't find out about THAT little gem until three years after she done it. Then there were mysterious wine droughts when he failed to bend to her whim, usually asking for more power. It got so bad that he had to go to the royal kitchen to drink directly from the barrel itself. He was a king! He should not have to resort to drinking in his own fucking kitchen!

Jon Arrys, his former Hand, much to his chagrin, view all the changes Mordred did as the good of the realm and only lightly reprimanded the girl for overstepping. The girl had her hooks into the old man too, playing off their relationship like an over indulgent grandfather to his granddaughter. Cunning little bitch.

Then she would go with him to the Kingswood when he was hunting and it wasn't so bad until she started to bring the fucking Kingslayer with her everywhere she went! Of course, even something like that was a small issue, until she shadowed him and stole all of his kills for fun.

It was an accident she claimed, that they simply been hunting the same creature together, but he knew better. It was getting ridiculous and his wife, for once had agreed. So when she was four and ten, they scoured the kingdom for the best fighters to challenge the girl, take her off their hands. The spearman from Dorne, the fucking sword fighter from High Garden, that twat form the Vale, his own bannerman's sons. All of those fuckers lost to her, Cersei even had the gall to suggest Gregor Clegane.

Now he wanted his daughter out of his hair, but Gregor? He nearly slapped his wife for such a stupid idea. The only bright spot about Mordred was her forcing him to practice with his war hammer at least once every day. Much to his lament, he had let himself go, but at least most of the fat had muscle underneath it.

At five and ten, the fighters from Essos weren't much better. Worse of all, she appeared to be growing stronger by the year. Of course, it was his own stupid fault for agreeing to it in the first place, but the girl had trapped him neatly, making him swear on the Seven, the old gods and finally Lyanna's spirit. She KNEW he loved Lyanna more than life itself. So he could never revoke the royal decree.

But now...

"Hee hee hee!" Robert continued to chuckle gleefully with Ned looking even more concerned.

Now, he would be free!

"Robert! You don't look well!" Ned said in concern.

_'Ah, Ned, you worrywart!'_

"Oh enough!" Robert finally bellowed as he got up on his feet. "Today is a joyous occasion or have you forgotten the agreement with Mordred?"

Ned looked confused a moment before his eyes widened in realization. "Robert... you can't be serious. You hate the Targaryens. You are going to let him..."

Robert frowned at being reminded at the only negative to having Arthur as a goodson. He was a fucking Targaryen. Granted, the boy didn't seem to think much of his family, which was a point in his favor, but still, he was a fucking Targaryen! A Dragonspawn!

"My love," Cersei spoke up surprising both him and Ned. "Perhaps this is a good thing; I can see you haven't protested it right away which means you are not that adverse to the match."

Ned gaped at his wife and Robert found himself doing the same, but the woman had a point. He wasn't calling for Arthur's head. Perhaps because the boy proven to be more honorable, in the short amount of them he known him, than his entire fucking line?

Still... did he really want to give Mordred to a Dragonspawn?

"Besides, you made it a royal decree, you can't go back on it," Cersei reminded him, surprising him with the amount of support she had for this match.

"Why are you so insistent on this woman?" Robert asked his lady wife narrowing his eyes at her.

To her credit, his lady wife's face smoothed and looked at him imperiously, like she was so much fucking better than him. Fucking stuck up Lannister bitch.

"Let's look at this from a practical and political point of view," Cersei began as she looked between Ned and him.

"First and most important, you have someone of equal status to marry our daughter. You don't really want her to marry some Hedge Knight or minor Lordling, do you? And even if you did, it would still be disgraceful to her."

"Aye," Robert concede, as the thought of his daughter living out the rest of her days in a minor House made him angry. "You got a point there."

"Secondly, you can use this to convince the Targaryen loyalists that you have made peace with their faction. The inclusion of their last prince will go a long way towards doing that and further reducing any causes for rebellion."

"You've... got a point," Robert nodded along and saw Ned doing the same. That was his Ned, always the practical thinker.

"And third, you would have him within reach. Mordred is loyal to the family, of that there is no doubt, agreed?" Cersei asked; her green eyes hard as if daring him to deny her words. He had to agree though, Mordred did love her family.

"Aye. Whatever you say about her, you can't say that she doesn't look after her own," Robert grudgingly concede.

"So, if she was married to him, she could keep an eye on him in case he DID ever try to cause trouble," Cersei explained and he had to agreed, it was a good idea, after all who closer to a man than a wife? "And if he does ever show any traitorous intentions, I am sure Mordred would make him sprout a dagger from his chest."

Robert looked to his best friend for his opinion and saw his friend nodding along to Cersei assessment.

"It is sound reasoning," Ned admitted with a shrug. "You're the King Robert."

"Aye that I am," Robert nodded but had one more question to ask before he would give his blessing.

Turning to the arena, he saw Mordred had been helped to her feet by Vis- Arthur and were making their way to where he was; he drank from his wine glass and was half way done by the time they reached him before him.

"Arthur," Robert greeted the boy, who returned it with a nod. He then focus his attention on his daughter.

"Father," Mordred shifted on her foot nervously.

"You remember the decree?" Robert asked lightly, causing Mordred to blush prettily but it was Arthur reaction that almost sent him back into his chair laughing. The boy looked confused! He didn't know! Oh this was too good!

"Yes, father," Mordred replied solemnly, but her eyes, so much like her mothers, kept darting to Arthur. Who would have thought his foul mouthed hellion would one day act like a blushing maid.

"Are you happy with this outcome?" Robert asked cryptically and had to suppress a chuckle at the confused looks Arthur sent his way.

"Well...He won," Mordred replied softly, her eyes now found the ground at the feet very interesting.

"Piss on that! I am asking if it is acceptable to you," Robert asked seriously and saw the girl raise her head, looking at him appraisingly. What? He had acted like a concerned father before!

Mordred's face seemed conflicted before she blushed heavily and looked at him. "It is."

Robert, once again, began chuckling as he looked at Arthur. "Then it is settled! Vis- I mean, Arthur, you are to marry Mordred!"

"WHAT?!"

Robert wasn't certain but he swore that along with Arthur he heard Ned's little girl shout.

+++ Joffrey+++

The first memory Joffrey remembered was of his golden haired sister. He remember following her wherever she went, and it was just so happen, that it was to a secluded spot. There she began to beat him, making sure he never bruised in any places that was visible. She called it training and had sought out his company to help her become a fighter. Even at that age, he realized she wanted to be like one of those armored men he saw walking around. Unfortunately, after the first few times, she found him unsatisfactory as a training partner.

_'Come on! I've been hit harder by little babies!'_

He had come to realize, as she had pointed out so many times, that any deficiency he had was his fault.

_'Do not touch my practice sword or I will hurt you.'_

Luckily, she never had to carry out her threat. To him, that was a good thing as her punches hurt. He remembered asking her why she had to train at such a young age instead of playing.

_'So nobody can tell me what to do of course! Might makes Right Joffrey, remember that!'_

Might makes right. It was as if all this time he was blinded to his own powers. Might makes right. His sister was gaining power to do anything she pleased. He liked that, he liked that idea a lot.

_'Do you think I can ever become as good as you Modra?'_

_'You have a better chance at dying before that ever happens.'_

Joffrey had to wince at that memory, his sister could be brutally honest but that was one of the many reasons why he loved her. But she was right, every year she became stronger and stronger. The lords of major houses had sent their sons to become his playmates. A way of fostering relations and get ahead in the courts. They were worms trying to leach off of him. They also proved to be the perfect playmates for his sister.

_'It's sad that I can beat up someone two year older than me, but what can you do?'_

_'It's just because you are amazing sister.'_

_'Naturally.'_

And she was right to have been so proud. No one her age was her challenge, all of his playmate that were to be future knights were all beaten up by his smaller older sister. It was embarrassing! Sometime afterward, his sister disappeared leaving him to fend for himself. He resented her then, up until he was eight, she had always been his constant companion. She even let him sleep with her when it had storm particularly hard outside. He had never seen lighting before and it scared him.

_'Mo-Mordred... can I sleep here, until the storm pass that is?'_

_'… If you snore I am going to kick you out into the rain.'_

After that, whenever he was scared, he would go to her and though her treatment of him was rough, he knew she did it out of love. After all, he had seen how she treated her enemies, not that she had many. There were some girls that looked down on her for his unladylike ways, but he wouldn't change her.

_'You are not going to play damsel in distress with the other girls?'_

_'I did, I saved myself._ _They can go ahead and wait for prince charming._ _It'll be a long wait.'_

However the time came where she was to be separated from him completely, he had different studies as the future king. He barely saw her and even then, it was only in passing. He had become extremely depressed but he remembered her lesson. Might makes right, so maybe he could show her how powerful he had become. To this day, he had no idea what came over him. His only thought was of impressing her. But he cut the stomach of a pregnant cat and showed his sister the unborn kittens think she'd be pleased.

She wasn't.

_'You...what did you do?!'_

_'Aren't you proud of me?'_

What happened next, he could only vaguely recall, save that it started when he saw Mordred's fist closing in on his face. Then an explosion of pain, pure, unadulterated pain. When he woke up, the maester told him they had been ready to declare him for the Stranger. Mordred had nearly killed him in her rage. Most of his teeth were missing, the maester said that he should have been thankful that it was only his first set. He had broken ribs and a snapped ankle, the maester once again told him that he should have been thankful as Mordred has broken his bones in easy to mend places. The list went on, he was bed ridden for the better part of the month and was not fully recovered until he reached age ten.

After the incident, he had avoided her, afraid of what she had done to him, but to his surprise, she had sought him out.

_'Wh-what d-do you- want sister?'_

_'I am going to make you into something you are not.'_

_'Wh-what's that?'_

_'A passable human being.'_

So began his knight training. She made him study the code of chivalry, train with the knights of the keep, help out animals that was trapped or stranded around the keep. Her lessons were harsh, and she pushed him hard. Eventually, he could not take it anymore and he made the biggest mistake of his life. He ran and told their mother.

His mother had been furious. Mordred had taught him that might makes right. Well, he had the might of their mother on his side. He was also going to be the future king. She was merely a princess. He had watched gleefully as their lady mother berated Mordred, but to his surprise she simply rolled her eyes despite all the threats their mother had leveled against her.

_'Go ahead; lock me in my room for a month. See if I care.'_

_'That is it! Guards! Escort Princess Mordred back to her room!'_

Joffrey had been flushed with victory as he had not seen Mordred in a month when she was guarded and kept to her room. She had taught him a valuable lesson and he had used it against her. Nothing could have been more perfect. Unfortunately, their lady mother could not keep her locked up indefinitely. He had heard their father released Mordred two weeks earlier than the time she had to served, but Mordred had refused and promised to serve the full month.

That had confused Joffrey at the time but on the day that Mordred was set free, Joffrey awoke to the touch of cold steel against his neck. Then as if to emphasis her power over him, cut a line from his chest down to his navel drawing a thin line of blood.

_'You realize I can kill you right now but I won't.'_

_'W-wh-why not?'_

_'Because I don't feel like it, but cross me again, and you'd wish I had. Beside, you're family. I try not to kill family unless they make me angry enough to do so. DO you want to make me angry enough to kill you?'_

_'N-no sister.'_

_'Good boy, tomorrow we resume your training.'_

And as if nothing ever happened between them, she continued to train him. To his shame, he continued to fail her from sword fighting to archery. Yet, for some reason, she persisted in putting him through the same training she subjected herself to, he knew he was a failure after a year that showed little progress.

_'I don't know why the princess keeps on trying to train the boy, he'd never be a fighter.'_

And when he asked her...

_'Because I want to, do I need a reason?'_

When she told him she wanted to spend time with him for no reason what so ever, he felt a warmth spread through his chest. Though he was only a year younger than her, he knew then that he was in love.

"_I love you Mordred.'_

"_... Guards! Someone call the maester, Joffrey caught a fever!'_

Unfortunately fate conspired against him. At her age of one and ten she was already a beauty and many had asked for her hand in marriage. But to his amazement, she had taken control of her own destiny and somehow coerced their father to agree to only marry her to someone that could defeat her. He had been nervous when the first few challenges came for her; they were at least a good three years older than her. She defeated them all easily. Still, he viewed that as a chance for himself as it was never stated that he couldn't vie for her hand.

_'If I defeat you in combat, does that mean you will have to marry me?'_

_'Bwahahahahaha! You? Defeat me? In combat? Bwahahahahaha!'_

"_..."_

Sometimes his sister words cut sharper than valyrian steel. Still, that was when he threw himself into training with his sister, but her regime became harder and harder every year. He was now passable, as she declared him, but if he was passable, then she was the Warrior reborn.

It came to him one day, that it was highly unlikely anyone would ever defeat his sister. At first he had been saddened but then it was Tommen of all people that pointed out the positive side of such an arrangement.

_'Wouldn't that mean Mordred would stay at the keep forever?'_

Joffrey realized then that if no one ever defeated Mordred, then she'd have to stay at the Red Keep, where he was king. It would give him more time to think of other ways to impress her. Unfortunately, his father had decided to engage him to the Stark girl. His mother was not impressed with the girl and, truth be told, he wasn't either. Not that the girl wasn't pretty, she was a true beauty, but she wasn't Mordred.

But once more, fate conspired against him. Mordred, his beautiful sister, had been defeated by a fucking Targaryen! It was like history being repeated all over again, a Baratheon bride being taken by a filthy dragon prince!

What truly angered him though, was the man's reaction. To even have the gall to consider rejecting her! As if she wasn't good enough for him! He was unworthy to lick her boots. And his sister! He had never seen her sister so docile and demure! By the Seven Gods, she was blushing! Blushing!

Then came the point that made him seethe with pure malice. He was married! His sister was beaten by a married man! At first he had rejoiced but then he was betrayed by the person who he loved second only to his sister.

"Well, Targaryen have been known to take more than one wife," Their Lady Mother, Queen Cersei, had said. The assembly had been stunned, even the northman, Eddy Stark or whatever, was stunned at her suggestion.

How could their own mother sell out his sister? To be a second wife in some, some, _harem_?! But surely base on the shock expression on his father's face, he would never allow it. His father HATED Targaryens.

"I'll allow it!" King Robert Baratheon, first of his name, boomed.

Joffrey was stunned. His father was allowing this farce? What about his sister? Didn't she get a say in being in a marriage with a man married to someone else?

"Unless you want to reconsider Mordred?" Their Father asked.

Finally! The man was doing his fatherly duties, now all Mordred need to do was tell him she didn't want the marriage and it can end.

"I... don't mind," Mordred murmur softly before looking away at a spot on the ground.

He couldn't believe it! His sister was going along with it! His proud, strong sister! No! He couldn't allow it! He had to save her! He WOULD save her.

"I object to this arrangement!" Joffrey stood up from his chair and glared at the slack-jawed knight who had beaten his sister. "You! I challenge you for my sister's hand in marriage!"

"What?" the man, Arthur, asked. He seemed to be asking that question a lot in the last few minutes.

"Joffrey!" His mother tone seemed sterner then usually, and if he had to guess, even a bit frightened. He ignored his father was looking redder by the moment. He was a stag and a lion, he could be as brave as his sister!

Taking off his glove he threw it at Arthur's feet but the aim was off and was going to hit the man in his face. The man caught it effortlessly before it hit the ground. Then as if realizing what he had done he dropped it, but it was too late, he had accepted the challenge.

"You fool!" Mordred half yelled; her face red as she glared at him. "You have nothing to wager with of equal value!

That brought Joffrey up short but only for a few second until he realize he DID have something of equal value. "I wager my engagement to Lady Sansa Stark against your engagement to my sister!"

"WHAT?!" It was Lord Eddard Stark who bellowed this time; his eyes were wild.

"Not fair!" the little Stark girl shouted in outrage. Good, he was outrage too at the travesty that was happening before him.

He saw his sister palmed her face as if hiding it in shame. She should be; she didn't want to be stuck in such a loveless marriage. He was going to save her. Jumping down to the dais he pulled his sword out and got into a ready stance.

"Ready yourself Ser!" Joffrey shouted as he he swung his sword with all of his might. Mordred had always taught that surprise was the best way to attack and always strike hard and fast. The man had fought his sister he should be winded after the melee and he wouldn't expect an attack so soon. Joffrey had all of the advantage on his side.

However to his amazement the man, with that bewildered expression on his face, brought his sword up just in time to parry his attack.

Joffrey had duel with his sister before, but it wasn't until now when he realized his sister might have been holding back on him as the moment his sword struck Arthur's blade, it rebounded and bit into his own shoulders making him drop his sword and cry out in pain.

Joffrey could only hear his own whimper, he tried not to but the cut was deep and to the bone.

"Joffrey!" Mordred roared. "You bumbling twat!"

As always, his sister words cut sharper than valyrian steel.

TBC!

Up Next: Psychedelic Wedding?

AN:First off thanks to everyone that left a review and enjoy the death of the mountain! Glad ya like it! Also special thanks to Cheesers and my pre-readers for their feed back on this chapter! You guys rock.

The Wheels, they're off I think...

So yeah I tired to draw parallels between Arthur and Mordred, and Joffrey and Daenerys, and how they were raised respectively by their siblings. It wouldn't be Game of Throne, Song of Ice and Fire if relationship wasn't fuck up and just plain crazy.

So in this chapter we have the Rematch of Camlann, the Rematch at the Trident, Robert history with Mordred and how he's been tempered by her. And Joffrey own view point. Joffrey have always been wrong, even form birth, Mordred can only work with so much.

Next chapter heh. Heh. Anyway! Thanks for everyone that left a review and those that discuss things with me in the PM!

As always, C+C Welcomed, Reviews Appreciated!


	9. Chapter 8

Game of Thrones belong to G.R.R.M

Fate Stay Night belong to Type Moon

Special Thanks: To Cheeser! The big cheese and the one that made this bad boy right!

**HELP WANTED: LOOKING FOR EDITORS .** Cheeser, yes, the editor form above! Will be unable to help me for the next few months due to real life obligation. If interested, please send me a PM. Otherwise, with no editor the fic will become average and plague with errors!

A Throne Nobody Wants

Chapter 8

*** Sansa***

"BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Sansa, in the field of what Archer had explained was her reality marble, twitched her eyes as the Counter Guardian of Gaia pointed at her, laughing himself sick. Her previous existence, Shirou, was on the other side giving her a sympathetic look. Taiga, her Direwolf, was sitting in his lap, nuzzling her head against his midsection.

"It's not funny! Arya is really angry with me!"

Archer pulled up short, he looked quite different from the last time she had seen him. Apparently, something had occurred between him and the other Shirou, causing him to look and act much friendlier. The spiky white hair was now down in non-threatening bangs. He also smiled easily now.

He was still an asshole though, and as if to prove her thought, he once again broke out into a fit of laughter.

"Hahahahahahahahaha! Y-You- You're gonna get fucked by Arthur! BWAHAHAHA!" Archer clutched his stomach as he pointed to her, tears now leaking out of his eyes. He wasn't quite so free with emotions before... once again, she wonder what had occurred to cause such a drastic change.

"Sh-SHUT UP!" Sansa shouted at Archer, her face red at his crude wording. Shirou, who was dressed in what was once her favorite jeans and t-shirt combination, was also blushing.

"Hahahha!" Archer still continued to laugh as he pointed at Shirou.

"He- he- He's fucking Rin and Arturia!"

Then Archer pointed back to her.

"This is karma! Karrrma!"

"Archer! You're being a jerk!" Shirou shouted, his face redder than ever as he pulled his favorite twin Chinese blades out.

"Shirou?" Sansa asked, looking over to her previous existence who could not quite meet her eyes. "What did Archer mean by you, Rin, and Arturia? Who is she?"

She remembered a girl that might have been named Rin, a Tohsaka if she recalled correctly. But Arturia was not a name she heard of before.

Shirou looked a bit lost for words and started to look anywhere but at her. Taiga was now back at her side, sensing her displeasure at both of the men in her Meadow of Blades.

When last they met, the three had had a meeting of Fakers as Archer had called them. Archer considered himself a false hero, he called Shirou a fake idealist, and Sansa a fake girl. Things had been tense but Sansa told them about her life since she was familiar with Shirou's own story, which Archer recalling a similar experience in the grail war.

Her life story ended up taking more time than she thought but Archer had advised her to continue to analyze weapons and armor she came into contact with to fill up her own armory. He then told her of how he had betrayed Rin and her previous existence so that he could kill his foolish younger self. She had been alarmed that he might try to kill her but he had told her that she did not count since she had died and nothing changed.

It was Shirou who began to tell her about the Holy Grail War. It was so much more complicated than what she had to go through, yet at the same time, Archer said that she had the harder life living in such a brutal world. Unable to determine her fate without affecting many others negatively. Before they could talk anymore, she had woken up and gone about her day.

She had never expected her day to turn out like it did. She was now engaged to Arthur Sand! Or was it Targaryen? It was all so complicated. Arya had been furious with her, thinking she did that to spite her on purpose. Ser Arthur had looked lost while Prince Oberyn of Dorne had set up an honor guard around the exiled- no, that wasn't correct.

The Targaryen was no longer exiled. Robert had lifted the restriction and welcomed them back so long as they give up their claim to the throne. Arthur had already done so when he had confronted Robert the first time, now all that was left was for his sister to follow suit.

Lord Dondarrion of Blackhaven was the other House that had volunteered to be Lord Arthur's honor guard. She had seen the two men fighting side by side in the melee and he was obviously grateful for his salvation from Ser Gregor.

Then... the duel with Princess Mordred, the wedding announcement, and Joffrey, her betrothed, trying to free his sister from the engagement using her as a bargaining chip. He had lost and she now found herself engaged to Lord Arthur.

It all went downhill from there, as her father had words with King Robert, Joffrey had been cart off to the maester, the Princess and Queen at his side; the former verbally shredding his pride, the latter trying to rebuild it. Then Arya had run off with tears in her eyes as she had followed.

_'You always get everything I want!_ _I hope you're happy!'_

With those final words, Arya had slammed her room's door in her face. Sansa and the Shirou aspect had learned to love others, and loved her own family fiercely. Without meaning to, she had somehow hurt her sister. She had went to her room to lie down and found herself here in the field with a different looking Archer and a perplexed Shirou.

She had told them her tale and here they were, Archer laughing at her predicament whilst Shirou attempted to comfort her. Both of their eyes had widen at the mention of Arthur but she had told them it was a common name in Westeros.

After Archer had settled down due to Sansa glaring at him, she turned back to Shirou expectantly.

"Well?"

"Remember how I told you I had a servant named Saber?" Shirou asked, to which she nodded in response. "Well... it turns out she was King Arthur, yes, THAT King Arthur. She hid her real gender from the world."

Sansa was stunned and looked at her previous existence incredulously. "King Arthur was a girl?! No way!"

"Y-Y-yeah I was surprised too," Shirou agreed while he scratched his cheek nervously. "Well... she is now being kept here by Rin while she trains to be a magus."

"And... and what? You three are like... an item?" Sansa asked looking at Shirou expectantly and saw his face redden until it matched his hair.

"Well... I mean... It's a complicated relationship, but we're making it work," Shirou finally answered, looking away from her with a blush.

Sansa nodded and sighed. Her previous existence was a playboy? Wait would she had ended up with the same situation had she lived? Though... did she really have room to talk anymore? She's part of Lord Arthur's wife collection now...

Sansa rubbed her temples, feeling the onset of a migraine before she looked at Archer. "And why do YOU find it amusing?"

"B-because! Y-your Arthur is Arturia reborn on your world! Bwhahah-huh!" Archer pointed at her and began laughing once more before dodging a blade she had flung at him. He actually looked a bit scared that the blade was embedded accurately between his legs brushing up his groin.

Good.

"No more laughing," Sansa threatened and saw Archer and Shirou eyes went wide. While she might have been Shirou in another life, she was now a she-wolf of Winterfell.

"S-scary..." Shirou gulped hard.

"Now if you would be so kind as to explain," Sansa requested, this time in a very courtly voice as Septa Mordane taught her.

"O-okay, from what you told me, this Arthur is a male, who is from the lineage of a dragon dynasty in your world correct?" Archer began slowly, his face no longer as jovial.

"The Targaryen, yes," Sansa confirmed.

"Well, it just so happens that Arturia is also from a dragon lineage too," Archer explained but she merely raised an eyebrow, waiting expectantly for him to continue. "You also said that he named a knife after our adopted father correct?"

"Yes? What about it? It could but any other number of people that knew our father in their previous life," Sansa replied, a bad feeling beginning to grow in her gut.

"Yes, but I bet you didn't know that our father was in the fourth Holy Grail war, and his servant was Arturia as well," Archer finished, his armed folded as he looked at her.

Before she could respond, however, Shirou spoke up first.

"Wait, are you telling me that Saber was in the Fourth Holy Grail war with dad?" Shirou demanded.

Archer, however, merely raised an eyebrow; he was still condescending despite his recent attitude change. "Oh? Your Saber didn't tell you? Better go ask her."

"Why you-"

"Enough!" Sansa ordered, making the other Shirou sit down and grumble but caused no more outbursts. She than turn to Archer again. "Granted, it is a big coincidence and it matches up, but that is still a lot of guess work."

"Maybe, but I didn't get to be a Counter Guardian by being stupid," Archer smirked before he realized what he said and looked crestfallen.

"I-In any case, you should ask Arthur yourself since he IS your husband to be, if they are one in the same... well you can see why I laughed, all things considered."

Sansa's migraine had only intensified up to this point. If what Archer said was correct, a female King Arthur, who lied about her gender in history, was actually now a male in Westeros and engaged to her. Then there was her previous existence that was carrying on a sexual relationship with the female King Arthur and another woman at the same time.

…

Shirou, as if sensing her headache, turned to look at her and put one of his friendly smiles on again. "So... want to take a look at some of the weapons I copied from Gilgamesh?"

Sansa nodded. She had no idea who Gilgamesh was but it was better than spending time with an amused Archer. She'd definitely have to find out something to blackmail Archer with in the future, if only to shut him up. For now, she needed to fill up her armory with more weapons; she found that if she tried to project anything in the waking world, she would pass out. Apparently, Westeros Gaia denied her ability. No wonder magic was so sacred in this world.

Still, an idea was already forming in her head regarding all of these marvelous weapons she traced. For the first since her new engagement announcement, she smiled.

+++ Cersei – King's Landing+++

One month was a short time to prepare for a wedding but she had done it. It would be an affair worthy of the Princess of the Realm and still be quick enough so that Mordred would be unable to back out of the wedding.

The wedding was nearly stopped due to the death of Peytr "Littlefinger' Baelish a week after the tourney, who had been killed by a jealous husband according to the whores. The killer still remained at large and while Robert had been uncaring of Littlefinger's death, some of his supporters had not, no doubt looking for the next handout. Amazingly enough, it was Mordred who had insisted that her wedding was more important than the Master of the Coin's demise, and so plans were made and invitation were sent out on short noticed.

Varys, surprisingly enough, had looked pale at the death of his former spying rival. The eunuch had even gone so far as to ask her where Mordred had been on the day of the murder. She had been shocked by his not to subtle implication that Mordred had a hand in the late Master of the Coin death.

Well, Mordred had been with the Stark girl that day, the former asking the latter with help on sewing some stags on her wedding dress. Speaking of the Stark girl... Cersei found herself frowning. The girl was also engaged to Mordred husband-to-be now and it was all Joffrey's fault, who had been sulking since his defeat at the Melee.

It was in anger at Mordred for hurting Jaime that she had convinced Robert of the Targaryens tendency for multiple wives. She could have saved her daughter, seeing as how Arthur had claimed to have been married. But, she had seen the wound Mordred dealt Jaime and how close it had been to his groin. She knew that Jaime would be unable to be available for coupling any time soon. Her visit to him afterward to try and seduce him had yielded nothing. He remained soft and looked as embarrassed as she was from the lack of ardor.

That only made her reaffirmed her decision to back this marriage. Mordred would be gone, the girl was grown now. Cersei will always love her little lioness but it was time to leave and find her own Pride. Lord Eddard Stark had been extremely offended that his daughter betrothal was given to Lord Arthur on top of Mordred's own, but Joffrey had freely wagered it in an honor challenge. The House Stark's name would have been tarnished if they broke the engagement to Lord Arthur simply because they didn't like it. Joffrey reputation itself and House Baratheon was already suffering from her son actions.

If anything, Joffrey was at fault and he was paying for that by becoming the laughing stock of the smallfolk. Robert himself had been furious with their son, but short of hitting him, which wasn't allowed under Mordred's gaze, he could only apologize profusely to Lord Stark.

Eventually, the two men made up when Lady Catelyn's letter arrived and grudgingly accepted what had happened if certain condition was met. First House Baratheon will be the one to pay for Sansa dowry that Winterfell had intended for the girl from their own land holdings. Second, House Baratheon would have to pay for the cost of Sansa wedding itself. Third, the Wedding was to be held in Riverrun, the seat of House Tully, and finally; Joffrey was not to attend Sansa wedding. Robert had agreed without a second thought, anything to mend the fence between him and his friend. So with Lady Catelyn blessings, contingent upon Robert acceptance to her demands, Ned forgave his friend.

If it had been Cersei, she would have extracted a higher price, but what could one expect from a Tully? However, her mind now turns to the whispers talks that was beginning to take root in the keep.

In a way, the inclusion of the Stark girl had started something strange. There was talk, according to Varys, of having Arianne Martell resume her engagement to the last Targaryen Prince and from High Garden, the Tyrell was said to be plotting to get their youngest daughter to become engaged to Lord Arthur. Baseless rumors in all likelihood as she knew Lord Stark was already in talks with the Tyrell's for their daughter to be Joffrey's new betrothed.

Still, she had underestimated the lure of the Targaryen blood, Arthur might have given up any claim, but that did not mean other houses would not try to use him to make a bid for the throne. Which mean it was imperative that Mordred remained by Arthur side now. The easiest thing to do would have been to just kill Arthur when they had the chance before Robert pardoned them. Now if they did that, especially after Robert extended guest rights? There would be severe repercussions among both the nobility and smallfolk. Her anger at Mordred had blinded her.

Speaking of Lord Arthur, the man was an enigma. He had refused a princess' hand repeatedly and appeared very confused about the whole ordeal. It was not until Robert declared that the Targaryen were no longer exiles and were free to come and go in Westeros that Arthur had reconsidered.

_'All assassination attempts would stop?'_

"_I told you before boy, I never sent assassins after you!'_

But politically, he couldn't refuse and he knew it. If he rejected Mordred, the Crown Princess, then there might be real retaliation against him and his sister. The positives to being in the Crown's favor far outweighed any objection that he might have against marrying a second and now third wife.

And so, here she stood, in the Royal Sept, surrounded by high ranking nobility from all over Westeros, from Olenna Tyrell to Brynden Tully, with her children beside her, waiting for the entrance of her daughter. She had thought the High Septon would have been adverse to polygamy but apparently, Mordred had been at odds with the church too. So he had agreed with Cersei's assessment that because there have been a precedent of Targaryen taking multiple wives before, he'd allowed it.

There was one last minute change Arthur had done that Mordred was probably unaware of, and truth be told, so was she until he showed up. She had assumed Arthur would wear Targaryen black and red with the three headed dragon emblem but instead, he was standing here in a magnificently royal blue dyed cloak, emblazoned with a white stitched outline of a wreath being pierced by a sword, two dragons, positioned as if climbing, on either side. Perhaps it represented him and his sister as the last two dragons in the world?

Cersei could admit that Arthur cut quite a dashing figure even now. The way he held himself, the aura he exuded, he was royalty, of that there would be no doubt. Why, her younger daughter's eyes had yet to leave the prince once.

The Hand and his family were right behind the royal family. The older sister was looking at her future husband as if trying to resolve something in her mind, while the younger girl appeared saddened.

Suddenly, the music played and the doors to the Sept opened, announcing the arrival of the bride. Cersei gasped and saw that everyone else did the same as Mordred showed up in a dress as white as snow with her father in tow, the man towering over her. One usually wore their house colors to the wedding, but this... The pattern and lace on it were elegant and the feeling that it gave off was magical in way. Her hair was tied into an elegant braid, the girl, for once, expression was demure as she only saw her daughter eyes flicker once to the groom before lowering it to the floor in front of her. She had a feeling that Mordred had just started a new fashion trend for weddings.

"Mordred looks so beautiful doesn't she?" Myrcella whispered to her. "Sansa and I worked really hard with Mordred to put that dress together."

Cersei looked at her daughter in surprise, even as her eldest slowly walked toward her future husband. That would explain why Mordred had not been seen in the company of Arthur this entire time.

Amazingly enough, Arthur's expression did not changed as he just merely maintain his firm look upon her daughter as she walked towards him. Was the man ignorant of the girl's beauty? Can he not see how all of the men in the Sept eyes was looking at his bride with barely concealed lust? It was only when Robert got to the base of the steps, that Arthur descended and took Mordred's arm, completing the final rites.

Robert moved smoothly back to her side, grinning from ear to ear.

"Can you believe it woman? We'll finally be rid of her," Robert whispered to her without moving his head. He was, surprisingly, being respectful.

Not keeping the smile off her face, she replied to her husband. "Have you decided on what lands you are going to give her?"

"I'm not giving her any land woman," Robert replied in a low voice as the High Septon continued to spout about the virtue of marriage.

Cersei turned to her husband then and glared at him, her eyes flashing green. "What do you mean?" she hissed. Her hand grabbed her husband by his wrist and dug her nail into his flesh.

Robert winced but glared at her but hissed at her softly. "Not now woman! You'll see at the feast."

"You may now cloak your bride and bring her under your protection," the High Septon announced and Cersei turned her eyes back to her daughter.

That was then something quite odd occurred. When Arthur removed his cloak, her daughter did a double take upon seeing the cloak different color. Mordred eyes darted around furiously, looking between Arthur and the cloak, her face, which had always been white, becoming even paler.

"What's wrong with the girl?" Robert whispered, having noticed the same strange behavior from her daughter.

Cersei, herself, was perplexed at her daughter sudden distressed. The girl body trembled slightly, as Arthur moved behind her to put his cloaked over her shoulders.

Mordred now appeared disoriented as she eyed the cloak now draped over her shoulders as if in disbelief. Suddenly her face paled even more as her eyes, once more, looked between it and Arthur's face.

If Arthur noticed the erratic behavior, he did not comment on it, instead, keeping his eyes on the High Septon.

"Princess?" the High Septon prompted. He gave Mordred an expectant look, who finally appeared to remember where she was, and shakily held out her hand. A moment later, Arthur put his hand on top of hers as the High Septon took a white ribbon and bound their wrists in matrimony.

"In sight of the Seven, I hereb-"

"Is the girl getting cold feet you think?" Robert whispered in confusion at Mordred's behavior. Cersei also found herself at a lost as Mordred shakily recited her vows even in contrast to how Arthur confidently spoke his.

"I don't know, she is acting a bit... odd," Cersei finally conceded as the High Septon concluded the ceremony.

"Let it be known that Mordred of House Baratheon and Arthur of House Targar-"

"My apologies High Septon," Arthur spoke up interrupting the man much to the amazement of everyone involved. Mordred, if possible, looked even more panicky. "But I have renounced all claims to House Targaryen. I have a new House name now; I believed it was submitted to your office a month ago."

There was a brush of whispering as all the nobles whispered at the unexpected drama unfolding before them. Cersei also blinked but upon seeing the new House Banner, it made sense he would choose a new House name.

"I'm sorry, my clerics never gave it to me," the fat High Septon apologized in embarrassment. "What is your chosen house name now?"

"Pendragon."

There was yet another brush of murmuring at the unveiling of the new name. Cersei herself mouthed the word over and found that it was an elegant name, one worthy of her daughter. In fact, Mordred Pendragon had a nice sound to it.

However, when Cersei turned her attention back to the girl, she looked as if the Stranger himself had come for her.

"Right then," the High Septon coughed and continued. "Let it be known that Mordred of House Baratheon, and Arthur of House Pendragon, formerly Targaryen, are one heart and flesh, one soul."

"The girl looks like she's going to faint," Robert whispered worriedly and Cersei once more found herself agreeing more with Robert in the past few weeks then their entire marriage thus far.

"Cursed be they who would seek to tear them asunder," the High Septon concluded and looked to Arthur.

Arthur, never wavering, looked at the crowd; his bearing regal as he announced the words as it was taught to him. "With this kiss, I pledge my love."

Mordred's eyes widened once more as Arthur leaned in and kissed her lips chastely as the nobles clapped loudly while the bells of the church tolled zealously.

+++ The Wedding Feast +++

Cersei was growing more concerned for her wayward daughter. She who had been so proud, so fierce appeared... scared, a word that had never been attributed to Mordred in the past. Mordred was fearless to a fault but since the wedding reception, the girl had been drinking as if trying to prove that she was Robert's daughter.

Even Jaime had caught her eyes and looked at Mordred as if to ask what was wrong with their daughter.

Amazingly enough, the newlyweds had gotten through their first dance; it was Mordred who appeared to be uncoordinated while Arthur gentlemanly led her around. This in itself was odd, as Mordred had always been a very graceful dancer. After that, Mordred had begged off and returned to the table, her husband went to dance with his next wife-to-be, Sansa Stark. Margery Tyrell and a host of lesser ladies-in-waiting moved over to Mordred to engage in small talk.

Just as Cersei was about to discreetly walk over to Mordred's table to inquire what was wrong, Robert, who had been drunkenly chatting with lord Stark, stood up.

Pounding his goblet on the table several time, Robert silenced all conversation as he beckoned Arthur over to him. "Looks like I've got you for a goodson now Pendragon."

Arthur merely nodded but did not comment. A wise move on his part as Robert had looked to have been a deep in his cup.

"I like your new name!" Robert exclaimed loudly as he leaned over the table to pat Arthur on the shoulder. "Much better than Targaryen, and I like the new colors, too! Fuck the red and black I say!"

Cersei bristled a little at that comment. The Lannister house colors were red.

"But, let's forget all about that for now. I have to give you a dowry for Mordred and I have decided..." Robert trailed off as he drank deeply into his cup and looked over to his 'daughter' and smiled at her. The crowd went silent, wondering what the King would bequeath to his daughter for her hand in marriage.

"For Mordred, that horribly ungrateful child that I reared, I give her two cows of the highest quality from the Crown's Land!"

There was absolute silence. It was as if the Stranger had come in and started dancing. A moment later, the crowd began to murmur softly at the scandalous announcement.

Cersei saw red. How dare this-this, BUFFON humiliate her daughter like this! Two cows was a dowry fit for smallfolk, not highborn nobility!

Even Lord Eddard and his daughters looked alarmed, Sansa and Arya eyes darted over to Mordred who appeared unconcerned with her father declaration. Joffrey too looked stunned, his face twisted into an ugly scowl while Myrcella looked as if she wanted to cry. Tommen probably was too young to understand the significance.

Jaime, for once, look absolutely livid with Robert but Ser Barristan had one of his hand on her brother to kept him from doing anything foolish.

Thankfully, she did not have anyone that would dare stop her. Turning to Robert, who was still looking at Arthur, she opened her mouth to chastise him.

"How dare-"

"I'll take it you fat fuck!" Mordred shouted from across the room. Her face was red showing that she was clearly well on her way to being inebriated. The nobles in the hall looked uncomfortable as father and daughter traded insults. Cersei was stunned by her daughter's acceptance. Well if Robert wasn't going to give her something worthy of her, she was certain, Tyrion would. Though she loathed the imp, the man was glaring furiously at Robert also.

Robert only smiled at his daughter for a moment before laughing out loud. Cersei clenched her teeth in anger and looked to Mordred husband to see if he would defend his bride's honor at least.

Arthur merely nodded. "Thank you your grace, I will give your gift the utmost care."

"Hah!" Robert laughed with a slight slur as he clapped Arthur on his shoulder once more. "You see this! A humble Targaryen. No wait, Pendragon now. I just insulted his ancestors and he let it go. This is why you are my favorite goodson. Of course, that isn't really difficult when you're my only goodson. I'm sorry to tell you this Arthur, but as my only goodson, you're also my least favorite as well."

Arthur just nodded once and said. "Of course your grace."

Cersei's nails were digging into her palm so hard that she could feel them begin to cut into her skin. Her daughter appeared to be unconcerned. Perhaps she was too drunk to realize the insult her father had leveled at her. However Robert wasn't finished yet.

Robert winked at the younger man. "Now then, Arthur, you might need a place to raise Mordred's two cows- and perhaps Mordred herself. Turn her into a proper Lady or something like that. The Seven know that if she had been born a man she'd be my heir at this point. It's almost unfrotunate, but then I remember what a pain in the arse she's been and I take delight in knowing she won't actually get what she wants and- er- what was I saying.. Oh right! I've decided that you can have Harrenhal and its surrounding lands too. That should be enough room!"

This time there were loud gasp from ever noble present, Cersei included. Since Lady Whent's death earlier this year, the nobles of the Riverlands had been squabbling over who would get rights to the land. Hooster Tully did not want to look like he favored one of his bannerman over the other, and though his son could inherit the land, he did not have the people to man it. So the situation was brought before the Crown to resolve but thus far Robert had not deemed it fit to rule in anyone favor.

"Naturally, you'll have to pay a tithe to the Riverlands, and the Crown of course, but it's _yours_," Robert nodded smugly as he looked over to Mordred, who returned his smug look with an unladylike gesture, shocking many of the nobility present.

Still, even with the tithe paid to the Riverlands and the Crown, it was a very generous gift. Furthermore, Mordred was entitled to two thousand Baratheon honor guards and she herself would be giving Mordred a thousand Lannister's ones, totaling up to three thousand men. Adding their family, it was a good start, and Hooster Tully would still get money from the land without having to support any of it with his own men. It was a win-win situation.

"Now! Let's celebrate!" Robert shouted one last time before sitting down to eat. Moments later, the music started up again and the nobles began to talk about the insult that wasn't an insult.

Cersei was now very conflicted on what to feel. On one hand, she realized she had been caught between Robert and Mordred's own private game of one upmanship. Yet on the other hand, she wanted to give Robert a kiss for the generous dowry he had given Mordred. Sure it would be under Arthur's name but she knew it was for Mordred. Frankly it was more than was expected for a princess and it was still close enough to the King's Landing that Mordred could still come visit. As much as the girl was a thorn in her side, Cersei would miss her otherwise.

Jaime was looking at Robert in genuine surprise while Tyrion raised a cup to Robert from his position on the table in respect. The oaf played them all while Mordred had not risen to the bait or simply not cared judging by the now refilled cup in her hand.

"I am going to go talk with Mordred," Cersei told Robert who merely waved her off as he pinched the buttocks of one of the serving girls. And just like that, he had killed any goodwill she had toward him.

Wine cup in hand, Cersei weaved gracefully over to Mordred's table but found her way block by Olenna Tyrell.

"Lady Tyrell."

"Your Grace," Olenna Tyrell curtseyed elegantly. Cersei have to give the old bat her due, the woman was known to be cunning and so she returned the gesture. "Quite a gift for the Princess, I'm sure I wasn't the only one surprised."

"My Lord Husband did not discuss it with me but I find I am quite pleased," Cersei replied politely and noticed that Mordred had continued her drinking binge.

"Still, to keep a Targaryen at the very place where they demonstrated their power, some would also call it foolish," Olenna commented casually as she looked around the room. The old woman was, of course, referring to the fact that before the Targaryens came, Harrenhal castle had been considered unassailable, unable to be taken by normal means. However, despite its size and their power, Aegon took the monstrous castle within a single day; for while Harrenhal could repel any ground attack, they had no answer for dragons.

"It's also a reminder that no matter how strong you think you are, you can also be crushed," Cersei retorted as she took a polite sip from her cup. While house Targaryen had been strong, they had been all but wiped out.

"Yes, it would be a reminder of that wouldn't it?" Lady Olenna agreed before she looked over Cersei's shoulders and excused herself to talk with Brynden Tully from the Riverlands.

Cersei narrowed her eyes at Olenna before making a note to keep tabs on the old woman. She looked over to the dance floor and saw the Bran Stark dancing with Myrcella while Arthur was dancing with Arya. Apparently the little spat between the Stark sisters had been resolved.

Speaking of the sisters, Robert had lobbied for the youngest Stark girl to be engaged to Joffrey but Lord Stark was rightly concerned, seeing how her son treated his last engagement. Already, she could see the youngest Tyrell daughter trying to make small talk with Joffrey. The conversation earlier with Mordred was probably a calculated maneuver to get noticed by Joffrey, who eyes had yet to leave his sister.

Drawing herself to her full height, she continued to make her way to Mordred's table and sat next to her daughter who had just poured herself another cup of Arbor Gold. The girl's face was flushed red and her eyes were slightly dilated. It was disconcerting to see her this... unfocused.

"Is something wrong sweetling?" Cersei gently prodded.

"Wrong?" Mordred turned to Cersei as if just realizing she was there. Her daughter then chuckled ruefully. "Oh there nothing wrong, except for the fact that I'm going to be killed tonight. So mother, have a final toast with me would you?"

Cersei looked alarmed and sharply turned to her daughter. "What do you mean?"

"Hah ha ha. It's funny, really funny," Mordred continued on, ignoring her question. "They always say daughters marry their fathers. Well. Congratulation to me I get to marry Arthur fucking Pendragon!"

Cersei watched as her daughter took another hard swig from her cup and started to sway from side to side. Still, Mordred's comment did not sit right with Cersei. "I believe Lord Arthur is nothing like Robert."

This time Mordred did react, after double checking to see if anyone was near, she lowered her voice and whispered to her. "We both know Robert is not my father, Mother."

Cersei stiffen as her daughter verbally confirmed that she knew about Jaime and her.

"Unfortunately, that's the story of my life, both of them," Mordred looked into the cup. "Born of incest between brother and sister only to be killed by my father again."

Cersei watched as Mordred sighed forlornly into the cup. Her expression was one of sadness and a bitter smile on her lips. It did not look right on her.

"I'm certain your father would not be killing you," Cersei assured her daughter and try to take the cup away from her.

"Oh that's right, Jaime's not the one that's going to kill me, it's going to be Arthur," Mordred eyes then looked up to Arthur and for the first time, she saw something on Mordred face. Unconditional love and admiration.

"Arthur just married you, how can you possibly believe he'll kill you?" Cersei said firmly looking at Arthur who seemed to noticed Mordred gaze on him. He simply nodded to her before returning to the dance floor with Margery Tyrell.

"Besides, you are not the type to let up without a fight."

"What's the point, I'm tired of fighting my fate," Mordred moaned as she laid her head on the table, careful to avoid the food. "Might as well lie down and let him stab me with his spear again."

Cersei eye her daughter oddly. Her daughter was not making any sense. "Stab you with his spear again? What do you me-"

"It's time for the Bedding!" Lord Edmure Tully shouted, turning the men of noble houses into lechers. The women likewise giggled as they made their way to Arthur.

Cersei frowned at Lord Hooster's son, the man had tried for Mordred hand once before and was sent on his way with a bruised ego courtesy of Mordred. He obviously wanted to see her naked.

"Goodbye mother," Mordred whispered to her as she stood up proudly as the men descended upon her. "At least I get to die a real Pendragon this time."

Cersei watched as Robert, Tommen, and Joffrey defended Mordred honor even as the men dragged her toward the bedding chamber ripping her clothes apart as they did so. The women, likewise, were doing to the same to Lord Arthur, but at a much slower pace. The Stark girls did not participate but the younger one looked as if she wanted too.

Cersei supposed she should go talk with Arthur. Walking toward the group of giggling ladies she saw they had an almost nude Arthur at the door to the Bedding Chamber. Mordred had been ushered into her room by Robert already, though her white wedding dress was left in a tattered trail.

Some of the ladies recognized her immediately and made way for her as she came upon the scene where Margery Tyrell just tore Arthur undergarment off. Cersei felt herself stop breathing, the man was sculpted like the Warrior himself. She hated to say it but Jaime never looked THAT good, and he was hairless, which was what she preferred. Then her eyes roamed lower where Arthur was modestly trying to cover himself and that when she understood Mordred's concern.

He was going to kill her with that... thing. No wonder Mordred was scared! She would be too had she been a maiden. A spear indeed.

Looking at the Arthur, whose face was now as red as Sansa hair, she gently put her hand on his shoulder.

"Lord Arthur?"

"Ye-yes your grace?" Arthur voice had a strained pitch to it.

Cersei sighed and made eye contact with him, her green ones holding his own purple. "Just... take it easy on her okay?"

*** Daenerys***

"Brother you IDIOT!"

Daenerys Targaryen, Pendragon now, tossed the letter her brother had sent to her to the ground making her guard detail from the Eagle's Brood jump in surprise.

"Viserion, burn it!"

The little cream colored dragon jumped off of her shoulders and spat a puff of fire burning the letter. He flew back up to her nuzzling her cheek. The other two, Rhaellion and Rhaenyion were feeding on meat by a bowl on her side.

She couldn't believe it! The Baratheon slut was going to be her brother first!

"YOUUUUU IDIOTTTT!"

Daenerys flipped her dining table over in a fit of rage, making her other two dragonlings jump up, startled by the noise. For good measure, she kicked the stump of the table leg, only for pain to shoot up her leg a moment later as she hopped around.

"Ow! Ow! Ow!"

"Lady Daenerys are you okay?" Mellion, the bodyguard assigned to her walked into her pavilion looking worriedly at her. He was a handsome man, dark and rugged, but nothing compared to her brother. He was also obviously smitten with her.

"I'm fine, can you please call Captain Belidos here?" She asked sweetly and saw the man blush before rushing out.

_''Fucking Baratheon SLUT!'_

The secret was out of course, after the men of the Eagle's Brood had shifted through her burnt home and found her and her three drakelings, they had locked down the entire district not allowing anyone in or out.

Captain Belidos, Commander of the Eagle's Brood, had been so relieved to have found her alive, but when he saw the three dragons, he had been startled. He had proven to be a trustworthy man, and one that was completely devoted to her brother. That was when she requested all senior members of the Eagle's Brood to attend her.

When the one hundred men assembled, she revealed her brother's secret. How they fled from Westeros, how they lived in exile, how they married to throw their assassins off their trail. By the time she was finished, she noticed that all of the senior members had a look of admiration and respect in their eyes.

Before she realized what was happening, they all knelt down and pledged themselves to her brother, now that they were certain he was royalty. It was then the more realistic part of her mind, trained by her brother had told her to question why they would offer loyalty. Weren't they sellswords? Couldn't their loyalty be bought for the right price?

"_My Lady Daenerys, I know this might be hard for you to believe, but during our time with your brother, he gave us something more valuable than gold."_

"_Oh? What's that?"_

"_Honor, pride and self-respect. It is because of him that I can wake up every day and look at myself without feeling like scum. We all feel his way. Let us serve you."_

So then Daenerys had requested that her dragons be kept a secret, because they could never be sure who would come after them next. It was during the next few weeks that she realized the extent of her brother's popularity. Upon hearing of the attack on the Eagle's Brood and, specifically, her, multitudes of sellsword bands descended upon Volantis to offer their service, free of charge, to partake of the revenge for Arthur.

There was easily ten thousand Sellswords including the Eagle's own which now numbered a little over five thousand. Her brother's modest estimate of two thousand was only when he joined. Surprisingly, Captain Belidos had said that the reason for their swell in membership could be attributed to her brother. Amazingly enough, more sellswords had been headed their way but received Belidos' missive that she was alive, thus returning to their homes. The others that were now with the Eagle's Brood had just finished wiping out the remnant of the Sand Scorpions and their allies.

"Lady Daenerys, you requested my presence?" Captain Belidos enter her pavilion that had been set outside of the city, under protection from the eagles so her dragons could roam free.

"It looks like my brother was exposed in Westeros," Daenerys announced and saw Belidos' eyes widen in worry. She held up a hand to reassure him. "He's fine. In fact, he's more than fine..."

"Lady Daenerys?" the dark skinned man asked curiously seeing her fall silent.

"The restriction on the Targaryen Royal Family have been lifted by the Usur- no, I guess I can't call him that anymore..."

Daenerys sighed at what he brother had foolishly done. Giving up their birthright. She knew he disliked their line and hated their brother Rhaegar and Father, but to simply give up the claim? Ah well, she was his sister and wife, whatever path he choose, she would follow.

Although... that path was now going to be a lot more crowded. First the Baratheon slut than the Stark bitch.

It's not that she even mind that he married to three women now, that was the Targaryen way and she was glad he embraced some aspect of their heritage but... there was only one thing matter that made her angry. She wanted to be his first. NEEDED to be his first. It was her right! She would never forgive the Baratheon whore.

Looking over to the Captain, she sighed. "I'm to join my brother back in Westeros at the first available opportunity; 'King Robert' has graciously pardoned the Targaryen family."

The Dark skinned man eyes widen in surprised. "Truly?"

"Yes," Daenerys confirmed before an idea began to form in her head. "My brother stated in his letter that he would like to use some of the funding you held for us to hire five hundred Eagles, a good mix of Scouts, Rangers and Freeriders to help secure lands he would purchase."

"Ar- Are you two moving back there?" Captain Belidos asked softly.

"He has to, he married the Princess of the Realm and is engaged to the daughter of the Lord of the North," Daenerys replied flatly. Already her dragon blood boiled at the thought, if only her brother had just taken her first!

"Pfft!"

Daenerys turned around to see the Captain turning his head and his mouth covered, his body shaking.

"And what is so amusing Captain?"

After settling down, the dark skinned man turned to look at her. "Let's just say this is not the first time Arthur has attracted women without his knowledge. Or gotten married. I believe there is a Dotharki princess that is still searching for him."

"What?!" Daenerys shouted in shock. "Why didn't he tell me?!"

"Because he fled from her the first chance he got..." the Captain replied as looking very amused at the memory.

Daenerys felt a headache coming on again. "Send the five hundred men and I guess I should prepare myself too..."

She noticed Captain Belidos suddenly went quiet before looking at her. "Do you think your brother would let us serve under his House?"

"Us? You mean the Eagle's Brood?" Daenerys asked with a knowing smile.

"No, not just the Eagle's Brood, the Sunsworns, the NightBloods, the Stormrocks, they have all forged alliances with your brother and want to serve him as well,"

"So many?" Daenerys asked, genuinely surprised. She knew the Eagles belonged to her brother, but more? How? When? Why?

"Your brother inspires people, Lady Daenerys. He is like the Warrior on the battle field, yet a shining beacon of... of... glory. To fight by his side changes a man, and over the years, many have fought by his side. We would call him King if he asked for it. On some level we had always suspected. This merely confirmed it."

"... I had no idea," Daenerys said in an awe filled voice. "I think I can speak for my brother when I said he would be honored, he has always considered the Eagle's honorable men."

The Captain beamed proudly at her statement, returning his smile as an idea suddenly came to mind.

"Captain, would you protect me, his lady wife for as long as she needs it?" Daenerys asked seriously.

"With our lives if you ask it." The captain responded with unwavering conviction.

"Then, I don't believe we will be joining my brother just yet," Daenerys smiled as she looked at her dragons. When she came back to Westeros, she would give her brother a gift that would make him a power to be reckoned with.

+++Mordred+++

Mordred woke up and wanted to die. She had a slight hangover due to the excessive amount of wine consume but that was because she didn't want to feel any pain when her father killed her. She had piece together everything, his plan. Hah! Who would risk their life to kill Gregor? No, her father had wanted to kill her and she had fallen neatly into his trap. Everything he did was a calculated blow to taunt her, from the colors of House Pendragon to the emblem of Camelot on his cloak. If he wanted her to feel shame and remorse before he killed her, well he succeeded. It was bad enough her father despise her in their first life time, but for him to do it again. It broke something inside of her, all her effort in her new life was wasted. Nothing mattered. She was resigned to her fate. Her inevitable death.

However, to her amazement, she was still alive and her fa-no, she suppose it should be 'husband' now, was no where to be seen! The more she thought about it, the more she realize she didn't even share any blood relation with Arthur Pendragon formerly Visery Targayen! Speaking of whom, she quickly looked around and got to her feet, her bed sheets covering her modesty. It was then she saw some splotch of blood on the bed and her eyes widened. That couldn't be...

"I don't feel any different..."

Mordred look down at her body, there didn't appear to be any bruise or blemish on it. She didn't even feel that sore. But she was almost certain her fa- Arthur had bedded her. He had kissed her, that much she remember and then... something strange happened.

She couldn't ask a Septa to check if she was still a maiden, that would be embarrassing!

Suddenly there was a light knock on her room door accompanied by a familiar female "Mordred are you still in there?"

The door opened and in came her mother, but surprisingly enough, Sansa, along with Margery Tyrell and four other ladies from different houses. Immediately, her mother eyes darted to the bed and gave her a sympathetic look.

Now what the hell was that for?

"Well, you are obviously a girl no longer," Cersei chuckled ruefully making some of the other ladies giggle while Sansa merely blushed. It was then Margery and Sansa began to help her dress. It dawned on her that her handmaidens weren't here to help her.

"Why are you all here?" Mordred asked in a confused tone. God, even her voice sounded scratchy. How much did she drink last night?

"It's a Lannister tradition for the mother of the bride and her friends to help her the day after the wedding," Cersei replied fondly.

Mordred nodded in understanding. Her Grandmother had died giving birth to Uncle Tyrion, her mother didn't have her mother for her wedding day for this tradition. Speaking of whom, she only vaguely recalled talking to him with him swearing to kill Arthur if he hurt her.

She didn't feel like talking much as the women fawn over her.

"Where's Art- my husband?" Mordred try to wrap her head around that little titbit. It sounded strange calling her father, in another life time, her husband.

"Spending time with your father and Lord Eddard," Cersei replied and gave her a glare that told her to keep any smart remark about Jaime to herself in their present company.

Mordred just 'hmmm'ed' to herself. It was strange. She never in a million years would have thought her reincarnated father was Visery Targaryen. Truth be told, she had presumed her father had been reincarnated as Arthur Dayne, the famed Sword of Morning, who had been dead for sixteen years now.

As for why she thought Arthur Dayne was her father... he fit her father's description; the greatest knight of the land, the greatest fighter of the last generation, wielding a sword forged from a fallen star, Dawn. The sword was said to shine with a morning light, hence its name. Achieving feat after feat, defeating mysterious knights and completing difficult quests, he was said to be unwavering in his knightly code and the example that all knight strive to become even to this day. Her Uncle Jaime was one of the few who served with him on the Kingsguard of old and spoke nothing but glowing praises for the famous knight. The more people talked about Arthur Dayne, the more it made sense to Mordred that it was her father reborn. Then there was also the fact Arthur Dayne's father was named Uther Dayne, another dead giveaway to her. So it was with great sadness that she realized she'd never be able to meet him because he died at the Tower of Joy fighting against Lord Eddard Stark's forces.

Well... it appeared she was way off mark because her father was alive, well, strong, healthy, handsome and apparently, bedded her the previous night.

At least she thought he did... she was almost he did. Maybe...

Did he?

"Mordred?" Cersei prompted grabbing her attention. She realized her dazed state did not help the rumor mill that Arthur Pendragon had probably fucked her senseless. She just wished she could remember if he did or not...

"I'm... fine mother," Mordred said as Sansa finish tying the last string on her dress. Looking down, she realized she would have to wear Camulodium blue again since she was Lady Pendragon now.

_'Oh god...'_

Mordred obediently followed her mother toward the yard and saw a breakfast spread was already prepared. There were several chairs, enough for all the girls and her as they sat down.

Pouring some fruit juice in her cup, she listened to the other girls make small talk about how handsome Arthur was, and how lucky she was to have landed him. Especially now that he was given Harrenhal.

"So, Princess, what was it like?" A mousy girl, she believed from House Rosby, asked blushing red.

"Hmmm...," Mordred replied as she buttered a slice of bread and bit into it. She forgot the honey. "Strange... really."

"Oh? Strange now?" This time it was Sansa who spoke up. She genuinely looked curious. Understandable, as she'd be next in line to get fucked by Arthur Pendragon.

_'Morgana tits...'_

Still, Sansa was to be her sister wife now, so she did her best to try and remember exactly what happened last night. Her fa-no, Arthur her husband was there, he had said something, she was too drunk to care and was just waiting for him to end her life. When he suddenly leaned in and kissed her softly.

After that... she found herself falling down a tunnel before exiting over a sea of lava? Then she heard a roar as a massive winged dragon emerged from the ocean of liquid fire. She remembered that it spotted her and with a mighty flap of its wing, it flew toward her, it's jaw opening wide as it closed in on her and then... then...

"I..." Mordred began with a puzzled frown on her face. "I- I think a dragon ate me..."

The girls all went silent making Mordred look up to see their red faces, even her mother's. But it was Margery Tyrell who recovered first with a mischievous giddy gleam in her eyes.

"How scandalous!"

TBC!

AN: Well once again, thanks to Cheesers for his editorial skill. Good luck on your work! Also thanks to UN for suggestion on making certain scenes funnier.

Now as for the Dragon Scene. For those that watch the Original Fate Stay Night anime, by Studio DEEN, Episode 15, YOU KNOW what i'm talking about. For those that are curious, just type in the words "Fate Stay Night Horrible CGI Dragon Scene" and it'll pop up.

So I think I can officially say I am running off the damn race track now. My tires are busted and I think I only have a quarter tank of gas left. I'm bone! Yet, I got big plans that should still be smile worthy. I hope.

As for the Archer at the beginning, and Shirou, for those that know, it's AFTER UBW path, where Archer hair became relax and he look more like Shirou and is kinder now but STILL an ass.

AS for the concession and political ramification on what JOffrey did. Oh it's a huge deal what he did and I only shown hints of it repercussion thus far, you'll see more in the future.

And I think that's it! Hope you guys enjoy! Thanks for those that left a review! You guys rock!

And yes, Harrenhal. I got big plans for Harrenhal. Poor Dany, have no idea what the hell is going on.

As always C+C welcome, reviews Appreciated!


	10. Chapter 9

Game of Thrones belong to G.R.R.M

Fate Stay Night belong to Type Moon

Special Thanks to Cheeser, this is his last hurrah for a while. Good luck with your work!

A Throne Nobody Wants

Chapter 9

*** Arthur***

Arthur was enjoying the weather on his mount; the sky was a clear blue and decorated by white puffy clouds. A nice breeze was blowing through his hair, cooling his face and permeating his black armor as he enjoyed the scenery before him. Greenery was on either side of the road, simply called the River Road, as he and the Royal caravan neared their destination; the ancestral home of House Tully.

Lady Catelyn, his second goodmother-to-be, had extracted a high price for the slight against House Stark's and House Tully's honor regarding Lady Sansa's betrothal to Prince Joffrey. King Robert had folded to her every demand in order to please his friend Lord Eddard Stark. Lord Stark himself had come to talk to Arthur regarding his daughter and her engagement to him. After what Joffrey did, Arthur did not begrudge the man on wanting to know who his future goodson was, especially with the wedding held merely a month after Princess Mordred's own.

Lord Eddard had grilled him on his life in Essos, and he been truthful. After all, there was no point in hiding anymore. Arthur had been exposed so thoroughly there was nothing he could do to ever disappear into obscurity ever again. He could try but now the word was out, the men from Essos during the tourney had not paid him much mind until he defeated Princess Mordred. Afterwards, some of the sellswords had recognized him having at some point either fought with him or against him. His name spread like wild fire according to Prince Oberyn and would no doubt be known in most of the Free Cities by now. Though he didn't consider himself that well known, the Eagle's were, and they would associate Viserys Targaryen with the Eagle's.

That was the main reason why he had reclaimed the Pendragon name. He would be a dragon again, but a different one; one not cursed by madness. So his banner was remade and shown, which had apparently shaken the princess for some reason.

Speaking of which, Arthur turned to look at the blonde beauty who was riding next to her father at a relaxed pace. The two could not be any more different. Her father a big rotund man, with black hair and blue eyes, and the daughter was slim, shorter, with sun kissed blonde hair. He could scarcely believe they were father and daughter at all.

His attention did not go unnoticed by the King as he nudged his daughter and pointed his way. The girl turned her attention to him, as if surprised he would be looking at her, before she blushed red and looked away, the action pulling a roaring laugh from the King who then turn to him and winked as if he was in on some colossal joke.

The princess was... strange. Arthur thought it might be unkind to think of her in that manner but, her action around him compare to everyone else was as different as night and day. Whenever she was in his company she tried to present herself as a Lady of High standing that put the Queen to shame. However it was always accompanied by the King's laughter whenever he saw the princess' act. To her credit, she took the laughter with grace. Yet, in moments when she did not think he was looking at her, or when he happen across her in the Red Keep, she traded insults with the man and was a lot more... crass.

Furthermore, Arthur did not know much about her, and not for lack of trying on his part. Of course, she showed up for the obligatory dinner with him, but it was always accompanied by Lady Sansa, who ALSO gave him strange looks. If he didn't know better, he said she was always on the verge of wanting to say something but present company held her back.

Although, there was one thing that was going to be very beneficial from his marriage to Lady Sansa. That of course being her renown cooking skills. By GOD could the girl cook. Her dish the 'Prime Ribs' was the best steak he had ever had, ever, even the ones he had with Irisviel paled in comparison. And her desserts... well sellswords _had_ fought for less. Hell, he was starting to drool just thinking about it. Of course being a lady of high birth, Sansa could not be expected to cook every meal, but he'd be damned if he ever miss one on purpose. He might not have wanted the marriage but there was no way on god's green earth or wherever he was, would he foolishly give her up like Joffrey had. Quickly, he wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth.

It was unseemly.

"Have I told you lately that you are the luckiest man in the realm my friend," Lord Beric Dondarrion of Blackhaven grinned on the mount next to him. "First Princess Mordred then Lady Sansa. If only I had your skills."

"Not lately no, but I'm sure Lady Dayne would appreciate your... candor," Arthur smirked as he saw the man paled.

"I was-err, merely praising your luck is all, surely Allyria shouldn't be told right my friend?" Beric replied, a strained smile on his face as he nervously looked back to the carriage carrying the beauty of Starfall.

The Lord of Blackhaven had taken it upon himself to remain Arthur honor guard until he is escorted to Harrenhal with his brides. Prince Oberyn Arthur twenty five spears before he was recalled back by Prince Doran making the Dorne prince unable to attend his upcoming wedding with Lady Sansa. He desperately hoped that Prince Oberyn was kidding about their parting conversation.

_'When next we meet Arthur I shall be calling you goodnephew, after all, what's one more bride now that you've been given Harrenhal? Besides, I don't think Arianne would be adverse to it!'_

_'Don't even joke about that!'_

… He REALLY hoped Oberyn was joking. He had definitely displayed a warped sense of humor during the time he had known him.

God... how did he end up with two wives? How?! It was all so simple, go to King's Landing, kill Gregor, leave. And somehow he had ended up engaged to two of the most desirable women in Westeros. According to Lord Eddard Stark, his bannerman would have gone to war with one another for the honor of having Lady Sansa wed to their Houses, while Princess Mordred was one of the biggest political unspent coins in the kingdom. No betrothal, no alliance, no courtship, the only way to win her was by sheer force of arms. Something he had foolishly done.

Though there was something about her style of fighting that niggled at his brain but then again, so did a lot of Westerosi. It reminded him of the Britanian knights of his time. This land reminded him quite a bit of his old country, if only larger and with a much more diverse culture. He had only seen glimpses due to his young age when he was here last, but as they traveled on the King's Road to Riverrun, the resemblance to his former country grew ever more noticeable.

But there were differences too. The smallfolk looked as if they lived harder lives, their villages shoddier, their knights not all uniformed like his, their sanitation left much to be desired. The most glaring of all was their main roads. It was not made of stone like those of his former country. Valyria, what he considered the Rome of this world grip never reached this far to build the roads for them.

"Lord Arthur!" Two voices called out.

Arthur turned around to see two little boys, one his soon-to-be good brother, Bran Stark, riding up alongside him after Beric dropped back a bit, the other being Beric squire and nephew to Lady Dayne. Edric if he recalled correctly.

"Lord Bran, Squire Edric," Arthur greeted courteously. He had forgotten how tedious it all was, things were much simpler in Essos.

"Just Bran, Lord Arthur," Bran corrected with a wide smile. "Is there anything you need My Lord? Something to drink? Something to eat? Hold your sword for you?"

"If he need anything I am better suited to the task, after all, I am actually a squire right now you know," Edric interjected. Bran glared at the boy, who in turned and glared back before looking to Arthur for his verdict.

"Nothing at the moment," Arthur answered with a shake of his head.

The two boys instantly looked dejected at the thought of nothing to do.

"Perhaps I can ummm, ummm..."

Edric grinned at Bran's loss of words as he turned to Arthur. "It appears Lord Arthur is fine for the moment. I shall check back later."

Bran looked embarrassed as Edric left as if he had failed some obscure test.

Apparently Bran had not been told that he was to be Arthur's squire when he rode for Harrenhal. It had come as a surprise to Arthur when Lord Eddard made the request, but it was Sansa pleading eyes that made him accept. Never mind that he had no need of a squire... but ever since his victory over Mordred, the boy had been constantly at his side, as if competing for the position with Edric. Didn't he know that a squire only served one knight?

"Enjoy the scenery," Arthur spoke up to the dejected boy. "I know I am; it's rare when I get to travel peacefully like this you know."

Bran's eyes took on an excited look. "Is it because of all the battles you been in? I heard a couple of the free riders from Essos talk about you and the Eagles. Is it true you shattered a Dothraki army that was ten times your numbers?"

Arthur sweat a bit at the glint in the boy's eye but decided to correct him. "First of all, it was not ten time our numbers, only three. Second, I did not repel the Dothraki. The battle was fought by four major Sellsword companies; the Axe Lords, the Bloody Legion and the Volantis Unsullied auxiliaries, which the Eagles were with, led by the Sand Scorpios. No single man can win an entire battle on his own."

"But the men said that the sellsword infantry had broken before the Dothraki warlords but you stood your ground and rallied the men, never budging. Like a true warrior they said."

Arthur sighed and looked at Bran's over eager face. "Bran, do not believe all the stories you hear. Yes I stood my ground but I had to. Do you know why?"

At Bran head shake Arthur continued.

"It was because my sister was in the city behind me at the time. I knew that if I retreated, they would rape and plunder Volantis and would only leave when they took what they wanted. I could not let it happen, not with so many innocent lives at stake. I was hired to protect the city and that was what I did. The men saw that and stood their ground with me.

"But they said you faced down the greatest Dothraki warlord in Essos, that you fought him in single combat and defeated him and saved the city."

Arthur sighed again, remembering the battle clearly. The Khal he had fought was a warrior that had pushed him to his utmost limit with his savagery. However, his skill and strength had won him the day as he landed a victorious strike on the warlord but was unable to finish him off as his troops swarmed to protect him. After that, the Dothraki lines had crumbled and the Eagles led the offensive to rout the rest.

He alone knew of the real reason behind the invasion of Volantis. Khal Drogo had seen his sister when visiting Volantis and fell for her. Their 'oracle' had proclaimed that only his sister would be a worthy bride for him and that together they would have a child that could 'ride the world', as they put it. He had offered Arthur gold weighing more than oxen, fine furs from the land beyond the Bone Mountains, a valyrian blade and rare gems the size of his fist.

Had he been anyone else, Daenerys would have been shipped off and married to the horse lord. However, Arthur had asked her her opinion to which she had simply politely refused the Khal but the man's 'oracle' was insistent. So he did as they dictated and would take her by force and the rest was history.

Shaken out of his musing by Bran expectant looks, Arthur merely shrug and looked at the boy. "You will find Bran, that soldiers will always embellish war stories."

The boys looked confused before looking to Arthur. "So... are you saying that you never defeated the Dothraki warlord in a duel?"

Arthur grinned at the boy then. "Well... I never said that."

++++ Riverrun+++

By the time the Royal convoy reached Riverrun it was close to midday. The castle was oddly built even by Arthur standard. It was tree sided almost like a triangle and had a large moat dug around it. He would bet anything that there was a water gate somewhere ready to filled the ditch with water making the castle an effective island. All in all, it would make the castle an island unto itself... but there were ways around that if faced with a determine foe.

As for the welcoming party, he saw the peasants, or smallfolk as they called them here, on either side of the road, hoping to catch a glance of the royal family. Or at least, that was what he had thought until he heard the whispers.

"Is that him? The last Targaryen prince?"

"I've heard it's Pendragon now."

"He's very handsome, and he get to marry the princess and Lord Stark daughter!"

"Isn't that against the Seven's faith?"

"He's a dragon, they do odd things. I heard his sister is already his wife. It's no different."

"Let's hope he's not affected by his sire's madness!"

Arthur winced at that... the Targaryen madness was infamous he guessed. Thankfully, he was exempt from that, being who he was. The women in the Targaryen family also appeared immune to the madness that afflicted the male of their family, so he was relatively sure Daenerys was unaffected as well.

Naturally, thoughts of Daenerys brought him up short, just before he left to attend his second wedding, or third if he counted the one between him and Dany, he received a correspondent from her. She would not be joining him, apparently she still needed to get their affairs in order, which was odd, since he don't recall having a lot of things to put in order. But then again, she was the lady of their home, not him. He just brought home stuff.

What _was_ odd was how polite the letter felt, there was no sign of her usual affection, it kind of saddened him that his little sister was growing up. But he was also happy that it appeared she might be moving on from her odd fixation on him. For a moment he believed she might have found someone worth her time. Well, he'll be the judge of that, after all, nothing but the best for his baby sister. After that, she ended the letter and said she estimated that she would be joining him within the year but had send the men he requested.

Well, that should make it much easier to file for that annulment when the time comes between the two since they never consummated their marriage. Thoughts of marriage naturally lead to his second wife, Mordred. Taking a moment to find her, he noticed that she was chatting beside the Stark sister. He hadn't consummated _that_ marriage either.

Mordred had been extremely drunk in the bedding chamber. He had been prepared to be as gentle as possible, still remembering what he did with Morgana when he was under Merlin spell. So he wasn't a complete novice. Arthur recalled the Princess had looked at him with an odd expression, her eyes flashing through emotions quicker then he could read them. So having paid attention to her during the feast Arthur offered her some red wine to soothe her nerves. She must have been on her way to being passed out drunk as her unsteady hand spilled some of the wine on the bed, staining it red.

Concluding that maybe she didn't need more wine, Arthur had taken the cup from her, and leaned in to kiss her gently to begin the bedding ritual. However, something... odd occurred. The moment he kissed her, a spark of sort passed between them, at least it felt that way, then the girl shook violently before passing out.

Lost, Arthur simply placed her in their bed and went to sleep next to her. He woke up before the dawn as always to hone his skill and left the princess to her own devices. Sometime later he learned that the people thought the wine spill was Mordred maiden's blood. The royal Septa, a doddering old woman, had confirmed it after an inspection. Judging by the blush on her face now that she spotted him looking at her, she must have thought the same. As if on fire, she quickly dragged the two Stark sisters ahead as the rest of the party rode into the triangular castle.

As they passed through the gate, he saw the Riverrun men all on their knees waiting for King Robert to dismount from his stallion. Mordred, upon seeing his inability to dismount under his own power, giggled, earning a dark look from the man. With a silent signal of her head, a page brought her father a wooden step box so he could walk down. It only seemed to amuse her further and in a brazen move, she mouthed something to the fatter man.

A nudge from Sansa stopped Mordred from harassing the embarrassed king any more. Apparently the two girls had already formed a friendship that would be carried all the way to Harrenhal. Good. He would hate to see the two as enemies.

"Your grace, my father is too ill to greet you and beg you to forgive him, but in his place, I Edmure Tully welcome you to Riverrun. Our castle is yours," Edmure Tully, the acting lord of Riverrun declared.

"Up, Up all of you," Robert generously spoke up as the men of Riverrun returned to their feet. He then began to greet the Tully family first, then stopped short when he came upon a beautiful red hair woman, with a teen boy, with reddish hair like hers.

"Cat... I'm sorry for my boy foolishness," King Robert said contritely as he bowed his head a bit before the woman. The woman must be Lady Sansa mother and judging by the glare directed his way by the boy, her older brother, Robb Stark. He could understand why the boy's eyes were murderous. If Arthur found out Daenerys was going to join someone's harem as a third wife, he'd be angry too.

Sure it was hypocritical seeing as how he himself now had a harem of sort but, it was the principle of the matter!

It was then he noticed that Sansa's brother wasn't the only person glaring at him; there were some rough looking men in grey glaring at him too. Judging by their clothing, he believed that they were Norther, no doubt they felt he had slighted the girl honor. Their animosity was understandable; but from the Riverrun men, it was not, at least not until he saw the Tully family motto on their banners.

_Family. Duty. Honor._

Heavy words, and the Tully's men appeared to take them seriously. He dipped his head in acknowledgment of their hostilities, but then drew himself up to his full height and returned their looks with a steely one of his own. If they were expecting him to be cowed under their combined stares, they would be sorely disappointed.

Among them, he noticed one non-hostile faction, a group of men in light blue clumped together, the leader of the group, a man his age, looked at him with barely concealed amusement on his face. The moment the blue clad man caught Arthur looking, he gave him a wink before moving his eyes to the King.

"Think nothing more of it your grace, you have more than mended the discord between our houses," Lady Catelyn Stark spoke up loudly so everyone could hear, her tone showing that she had no tolerance for anyone that would make an issue of it as she curtsied to the King.

"You are a generous woman Cat, Ned's a lucky man to have you," King Robert replied, his tone clearly relieved as he embraced the woman before moving onto the son.

"And you! We just left you and you've already grown taller! What have they been feeding you?!"

"Northern food your grace," Robb Stark answered sheepishly. "My sister left a very competent kitchen staff behind when she left us."

"Bah, you northerners will grow soft eating such delicious food," King Robert laugh aloud but looked to Sansa enviously.

_'Mine now!'_

Arthur chide himself for his unseemly thought, but he couldn't help it, he really lucked out on this one.

"Well, I think that's enough courtly etiquette," Robert announced as he clapped the red haired boy's shoulder with his hand. "I'll leave you to talk with your family. Lord Edmure, lead on."

"Right this way your grace," Edmure Tully nodded as the retainer of House Tully lead the King's party away.

As the group left, Arthur decided to stay behind to observe the family's interaction, he was certain the mother of the bride would want to talk with him. He would not shy away from that, Arya had flung herself into her older brother arms just as the royal party barely made it out of sight, while Sansa was hugged by Lady Catelyn.

"Hu-husband," Mordred spoke up surprising him. She had rarely sought out his company. Once more she appeared to have a hard time meeting his eyes, as if afraid. He would have to get her to be less shy around him. Arthur extend his hand and give her a gentle squeeze on her wrist in a comforting gesture. It had the opposite effect as she looked at him in shock before wearing a strain smile.

That did it, he would find out where he stood with her. He had to see what kind of marriage he gotten himself into.

"Mordred," Arthur began and pulled at her wrist signaling for her to face him. His purple eyes met her green ones. "Why do you hate me so much?"

Much to his surprise, his wife only looked confused, openly gaping at him. "W-what are you-what would make you thi-... hate?"

"You have been avoiding me since our wedding. Don't try to deny it. You are never alone when you talk to me, and the way you act with me compared to everyone else is quite different. I can only conclude that you hate me."

Arthur listed his reason and gave the Princesss a serious look trying to determine where he stood with her. Once more, his wife surprise him as her face was riddle with confusion.

"Ha-wha-are yo- I love you."

Arthur blinked in surprise as he heard Mordred's response. Her words were soft and honest. Her face showed that she could not comprehend how he had possibly come to that conclusion. With that same deceptive strength that belied her frame, she shook her hand free and excused herself before leaving in the direction of her father.

Now he was even more confused. How could she love him if she didn't even _know_ him? When did THAT happen? Though he didn't know her that well, he got the impression that Mordred was not the type to fall in love so easily.

Arthur could admit, initially, he had a hard time not associating her with Sir Mordred from previous life. It did not help she had the same exact coloring as the traitor knight of Camelot. But, it was her personality that separated the two. His Mordred, often referred to as Sir Mordred, was a knight on par with Lancelot in terms of chivalry and upholding the knightly code. He was a true example of what a knight should have strove for up until the point he revealed himself and try to claim kingship of Britannia.

Princess Mordred was different. If he had to put it into words, she was a combination of innocence, recklessness, carelessness and viciousness and openly affectionate; the complete opposite of his Mordred, who was strict and had no time for trivial pursuits, stern, unyielding, and obedient to a fault, at least until the rebellion.

_'She... loves me?'_

Arthur felt a headache coming on. Try as he might he could not determine exactly which interaction or any that would earn him her affection, but her tone did not lie. So it was with him slightly distracted that the Starks's came upon him.

"Lord … Pendragon?" Lady Catelyn voice shook him out of his contemplation. Drawing upon his courtly etiquette from Camelot, he bow low to her.

Apparently his bearing and demeanor caught her off guard as she reassessed him in her eyes.

"That was a well-executed _courtly_ bow," Lady Catelyn answered, next to her, was her two daughters who looked at their lady mother in shock. "Surprising since I was told you were a sellsword and had no contact with any nobles since your exile."

Arthur quirked a smile at that. The woman had almost spat out the word sellsword, her distaste for his profession clear.

"I was raised in the courts at one time, perhaps some of the lessons have stuck with me," Arthur replied with evasively. Lady Catelyn however did not appear to be done.

"I've also heard you were a … _farmer_, at one point in time before you became a sellsword?"

"Yes my lady, for the city of Pentos, on the outskirts," Arthur answered proudly. He knew it irritated the woman, but he was quite proud of his work as a farm hand. By their short exchange, he knew she was raised as a true highborn lady.

"Mother..." Sansa spoke up, as if sensing the tension between them. Arya, the normally wild girl was even placid in the presence of her mother.

"And you thought that was work _worthy_ of someone of with your lineage?" Lady Catelyn asked derisively. "With the Targaryen name, many nobles would have gladly play host to you and your sister for your entire lifetime."

Arthur didn't reacted and continued to look at the woman who wasn't finished.

"Then, you became a common sellsword, a killer for hire," Lady Catelyn's distaste for this profession was more pronounced than her objection to him being a farmer. "Little better than a thug really."

"Mother..." Robb Stark spoke up after Sansa had nudged him into action. Arthur knew Lady Catelyn was aware of it.

"I can see you take offense to me Lady Catelyn," Arthur replied congeniality.

"The fact that my daughter is marrying someone who rolled in the mud with pigs and then later on kill people for the highest bidder does not sit well with me," Lady Catelyn spoke bluntly looking at him. His purple eyes meeting her blue. "If not for your blood, and the political repercussion, I would break her betrothal to you now."

Arthur nodded accepting her criticism but still held her gaze. "Lady Catelyn, since you were so blunt with me, I feel incline to return the favor."

Lady Catelyn eyes narrowed at him, while her son looked at Arthur warningly. Sansa, Bran and Arya began to speak up but Lady Catelyn simply raised her hand to silence them.

"I think you are under some grievous misconception my lady," Arthur began as he still held her gaze. The Courtyard was empty now saved for the men at arms. "You spoke as if what I should be ashamed of what I have done. To you I might be little better than a smallfolk-"

Lady Catelyn look confirmed his statement.

"- but I had a _duty_ to my only remaining _family_ member, it was my _honor_ to do whatever was needed so that she may grow up safe. I have no regret and if I had to do it again, I would without hesitation."

Lady Catelyn eyes flashed dangerously as she realized he threw her family motto right back into her face. He could see the tight balling of her fist.

"But there were nobles loyal to the Targaryen in Essos, they would not turn away someone of your blood," Lady Catelyn countered.

It was then Arthur chuckled making the woman bristle. "And go to the first place the assassins would have looked? My Lady, if you truly believe that, then I have nothing more to say save this; Lady Sansa, my future wife to be will want for nothing. I will treat her with the respect she deserves."

Lady Catelyn's mouth thinned and with a huff she turned on her skirt and gracefully moved back into the keep interior. Her son following her, however, gave him a look of respect, if he understood it correctly, before walking into the keep.

"Amazing!" Arya and Bran said as one as they looked at him with respect in their eyes.

"Oh?" Arthur inquired as he saw Sansa give him a quick nod before running in the direction of her brother.

"Yeah! No one can ever face down our lady mother like you did when she's like that!" Arya said in awe.

"Even our father caves before her demands whenever she in that mood," Bran added as he openly gaped at him, no doubt wondering how he was still alive.

Arthur let out a soft smile at those comment. "Want me to let you on a little secret?"

The two younger children nodded eagerly and leaned in conspiratorially.

He made a big show of looking left and right before leaning in until their faces were almost touching. "Once you face down a baby sister, who's a dragon, a human mother is child's play."

With that he walked passed the two Stark kids and was about to make his way inside when the man from earlier, sporting light blue colors stood in front of him barring his way.

The man, who had golden reddish hair, a beardless, handsome face, and was of similar height, was standing in the doorway, smiling at him while blocking his path.

"Excuse me," Arthur spoke and try to move aside but the man barred his way.

"Arthur Pendragon," the man spoke up, a mischievous smile adorning his lips. His blue eyes appeared to be searching for something on his face.

"What can I do for you Ser?" Arthur inquired politely but was getting annoyed. It had been confrontation after confrontation since he got here.

"I promised my younger sister I would look upon the face of Arthur Pendragon for her," the unknown man answered.

Annoyed now, Arthur folded his arms and glared at the man, only amusing the man, if his annoying smile was anything to go by. "And?"

His eyes roamed across Arthur's body once before focusing back on his face, nodding.

"We will meet again, perhaps after your wedding with Lady Sansa," the mysterious man replied before beginning to walk away.

"You failed to introduce yourself, Ser" Arthur called out, narrowing his eyes at his retreating form.

"Ah, how could I have forgotten," the man replied as he smacked the palm on his forehead exaggeratedly. "I am but a minor lord from the Vale, My name is Gwynn of House Lake."

And with that, the man gave a bow and left, humming a jaunty tune. Arthur did not know why but he disliked that man immediately.

+++ Mordred +++

Mordred Baratheon, but really Lannister (or Waters), and Princess of the Realm was face down on her guest bed at Riverrun when she suddenly let loose a frustrated scream into her pillow. Why was she so stupid! Of course he would notice her avoiding him!

To make matters worse, he had wrongly assumed she hated him. How could she ever hate him? The look in his eyes had told her answer would shape the rest of her life. The last time Mordred had seen that look was when she had confronted Arthur about her inheritance of Britannia. At the time she had threaten to leave the King's service if she was not name successor to the throne, to which her father had merely thanked her for her service before wishing her well in future endeavors.

_'Heh... maybe he shouldn't have done that._ _Argh_! _This is no time to be amused!'_

'_ARGGGGGHHHH_!'

How could she face him now?! She had only intended to avoid him until Sansa had married him, then she'd use Sansa to distract him. Mordred had seen the gluttonous look in her fath- husband's eyes upon tasting Sansa's cooking. Her plan was simple; be around when Arthur was eating Sansa's cooking so that he would associate good things with her presence.

Unfortunately, her avoidance of Arthur had backfired.

_'I'm so stupid~~~~~~~!'_

"Mordred?"

The question was accompanied by a soft knock. It was Sansa.

Growling into her pillow, she punched it before she schooled her face to look at the door.

"Come in."

Sansa gingerly walked in and closed the door quickly. The look on the girl face was full of concern for her. Ah, Sansa was so nice it was borderline criminal. Something told her, if someone ever managed to convinced her that the only way to save the world was having sex, she'd probably do it.

"Sansa, were you not enjoying the welcome feast? It's being thrown in honor of your wedding after all," Mordred asked her friend.

"The men are getting drunk," Sansa replied flatly. She disliked excessive drinking.

"Ah bugger," Mordred groan into her hand. "Mother's going to be terrible tomorrow."

And an irate Cersei meant a fuck session with Jaime. Thankfully, she had spiked her Uncle's wine and food with medicine from Dorne that dampened one's lust, despite anyone's best effort. No brother would be fucking their sister today!

Except for her fa-Arthur. It already happened. Beside... he's a Targaryen... and there was how she was conceived, both time... she'd let him and only him. If he wants to. Shaken out of her thought she turned to look at her friend.

Sansa had been looking at the wall away from Mordred. The girl was well versed in King Robert's behavior by now. There would no doubt be several royal bastards in Riverrun before they left for Harrenhal. Speaking of the place, she looked to her the redhead Stark girl.

"Did your mother tell you how many men your father will be sending as your honor guard?"

Sansa pursed her lips as she took on a thinking posture with her thumb and index finger cradling her chin. "I believe five hundred; two hundred riders, fifty bowman and two hundred and fifty infantry."

"Hmm that brings our numbers up to three thousand five hundred; four thousand if our husband gets the five hundred sellswords he promised... still leaves us in a weak position."

Mordred contemplated the logistics of what had been said and realized that her family only commanded what amounted to a tenth of the possible forces the surrounding powers could muster.

"We could always recruit bastards and enlist them into our army along with builders?" Sansa suggested making Mordred looked up at her.

"Argh, if we did that, we won't get notable houses to join House Pendragon," Mordred moaned as she realized most of the trueborns would not want to be working alongside bastards.

"Well, I don't see why not?" Sansa replied, a hard look on her face. "Just because the men who sired them refuse to take responsibility for them it doesn't make them any less of a person!"

Mordred's face softened. "I'm sorry your other brother couldn't make it to your wedding... Jon was it?"

Sansa looked downcast. "If only he never went to the Wall, I could have had him as my honor guard... now he's up there all alone."

Mordred pat the spot next to her bed, signaling for Sansa to sit beside her. "Well, when we have the run of Harrenhal, we can make your bastard haven if you'd like. Take the good ones from all over the land and forge them into a single unit and if the nobles we have under us don't like it? Well fuck 'em."

Sansa grinned at her in approval before looking a bit worried. "Don't we have to get Arthur's approval though? What if he's like the other highborn and doesn't want bastards in Harrenhal?"

Mordred had to smirk. "Oh, I don't think he'd be too picky. He strikes me at the type that would hire any mysterious knight on the spot if they prove worthy, regardless of birth status."

"That's... very specific..." Sansa glanced at her suspiciously.

Mordred sweat a bit. Perhaps she shouldn't have used Lancelot as an example. "Ju-just guessing b-base on what I learn of him that's all. I mean he was a sellsword, I'm pretty sure he worked with worse."

Sansa seem to contemplate this for a moment before she nodded. "True."

"Besides, if you want him to agree to anything, just ask for it over a meal you cook, I guarantee he'll submit," Mordred sighed. Her father's one weakness; good Food.

The two fell silent after that, giving them the chance to listen to the sound of revelry coming in from the dining hall. The sound of the men laughing, in particular Robert's, was easily discernible.

"So, Mordred..." Sansa started up suddenly as she continued to swing her legs over the edge of the bed. "I was wondering if you'd be willing to assist me in an endeavor."

Mordred grinned a she used her Sir Mordred voice, which was a bit deeper than normal when she was hiding her identity in Camelot. "My Lady need only to command this humble knight and it shall be done."

Sansa chuckled before turning serious. "I want you to convince my mother to let me make my own wedding cake. The staff here are terrible."

TBC...

Up Next: Sansa

AN: Thank you once again to Cheeser for doing work. Good luck on your work! However, thanks to the kind offers form Deer-Shifter and Delaney Telos, we will be continuing the quality of this fic!

A warm welcome!

So , after repeated hits to the luls, I have to take my car into a little pit stop and ease down on the gas if i I want to finish the journey. There are major plots points all over this chapter , spot it if you can! :D

Thanks to those that left a review, your support is awesome! Some of them were very insightful but the question I have to ask is..

Is it really incest if Mordred and Arthur is not related by blood? How about Arthur and Daenerys? He's never had a sister in his previous life, but he has one now by blood. Where as, Mordred was Arthur's by blood but not any longer in this new life. What a conundrum! Right? Right? :P But, that's what make GoT /SoIaF fun, the crazy complicated relationship!

Also see! :P That Dothraki Princess was not Khal Drago! Can't believe you guys even thought that! Heh. It's a funny thought though but I have plan for dear old Khal too.

Anyway! Thanks again for the support! As always C+ C welcome, reviews appreciated!


	11. Chapter 10

Game of Thrones belong to G.R.R.M

Fate Stay Night belong to Type Moon

SPECIAL THANKS TO MY TWO NEW EDITORS: Deer-Shifter and Delaney Telos! These two stepped up and knock this one out of the ball park.

A Throne Nobody Wants

Chapter 10

*** Robb- Riverrun ***

The plan to humble the Targaryen Prince was not going well. Hearing Smalljon Umber being violently unhorsed by Arthur Pendragon caused the men to wince with sympathy while the great ladies gasped at the brutality.

Clad in black armor and the blue tabard of his new house, Arthur Pendragon raised his fist, victorious. He had tied Sansa's favor around his wrist, Princess Mordred's underneath that, and perhaps most surprisingly, Arya's on the same arm.

"Arthur won!" Arya cheered loudly from her spot in the stands. Bran, Robb own brother, was also looking at the Targaryen with admiration

Robb didn't care who he claimed to be, now - the man would forever be a Targaryen to him. He could see his lady mother was very dissatisfied while his father just shook his head. Robb's eyes trailed over to the royal stand to see the beautiful princess, Mordred, wearing a supremely pleased yet gentle expression that made her even more desirable.

Sansa, however, looked at Smalljon in sympathy; she probably didn't realize that such sentiments from her would only wound Smalljon's pride.

The objective had been simple: the young lords of Riverrun and Winterfell decided to hold an impromptu jousting tourney the day before his sister's wedding. The men of the North never forgave the Targaryen for stealing away his Aunt, while the men of Riverrun thought that his sister being the third wife, after Arthur's own sister and Mordred, was a travesty.

Though they had grudgingly accepted the betrothal, they didn't have to respect the dragon. They would make light sport and humiliate him in front of all the noble guests. Though he might have taken two of the great beauties of the kingdom, he would do so only after being hazed by the Northmen and the young men who had failed to win the princess

Of course, Robb was beginning to see that the dragon was not one to be trifled with lightly. All of their best jousters were defeated with brutal efficiency and he now found himself the last contestant as he rode out to meet Arthur.

"Lord Robb of House Stark!" the Crier announced as trumpets blared and Robb made his entrance. The men of Riverrun and Winterfell roared loudly, banging on the stands and stomping their feet.

"And still in the field, the reigning victor, is Arthur Pendragon!" the Crier shouted, this time to the polite clapping of the ladies, nobles and smallfolk alike. Many of the men grumbled at their womenfolk, no doubt because the dragon bastard was pretty to look at as well.

"Kick Robb's arse, Arthur!" Arya cheered happily as she mischievously met Robb's eyes.

Robb had to admit he was a bit hurt that his sister would root against him, but then, Sansa had not been pleased when they asked this of King Robert. Princess Mordred had been indifferent while Queen Cersei had merely raised an eyebrow. Their father however, had been livid at the young men's foolishness and thought he was trying to spoil his sister's wedding.

But could his father truly blame them? When news had come of the events in King's Landing at the tourney, the entire North had been up in arms. Sansa was to be a Targaryen's third wife – the Treasure of the North, a _third_ wife. It was offensive to all of their bannermen, and to none more so than Lady Stark herself.

The crux of the matter was, though, that the Royal family was willing to engage their daughter, the firstborn, the Jewel of the Kingdom, to the Targaryen. If House Stark pulled the engagement, it would be understandable, but it could be easily misconstrued that the Northerners felt themselves more important than the Royal family.

Had it been with any lesser nobles, breaking the betrothal would not have been a problem; the fact that they had given Sansa to House Baratheon, however, made it all the more politically suicidal to back out. Robb knew that his father cared little for politics, but his mother, raised in the south, understood the implications. She had no choice but to honor the agreement, even if she could demand reparations - the last of which meant that Joffrey would not attend the wedding.

His mother had guessed correctly that in the heat of the moment, the men of the North, including Robb, might have attacked the Crown Prince for treating Sansa so dishonorably.

Still, the North never forgets, and the Rivermen forever preached about family. They had agreed to help set the trap for the dragon - except the whole plan had gone pear-shaped. The dragon was simply too strong.

"Lord Robb," Arthur's dipped his head slightly in respect, as he rode pass Robb to his end.

"Lord Arthur," Robb returned the gesture coldly as he closed his visor and leveled his lance.

On their own signal, Robb spurred his steed into action, leveling out his lance to prepare for their clash. Arthur, his own lance leveled, was closing in alarmingly fast. Kicking his horse's flank once more, Robb looked for the best opportunity to strike the dragon as his mount started its dead run.

It was at the last second, that he shifted his lance, tilted his head upward, and let the Old Gods decide the victor.

++++ River Keep+++

When Robb came to, he heard the sound of his mother talking with Sansa. Arya could be heard conversing excitedly along with Bran.

"Ugh... my head," he groaned, silencing the room.

"You are lucky that Lord Pendragon went easy on you," his father, who had apparently kept so deathly quiet that Robb hadn't sensed him in the room, spoke up.

"That was easy? He could have killed Robb!" his mother hissed in contempt, but his father and sisters simply nodded.

"He defeated Robb in the most efficient manner," his father explained. "I have seen him in action at my own tourney. He could have broken his lance on any of the vulnerable areas, potentially dealing fatal injuries, but he chose the boy's stomach to unhorse him quickly."

"And why is that generous?" his mother asked skeptically. However, Robb knew the answer.

"It's because when he aimed for my stomach, he left his head vulnerable; in fact, I capitalized on that opening," Robb explained to his mother who took in this information with thinned lips. After a moment of silence, she stood and looked at her husband.

"I shall double check the decorations in the main hall," Catelyn Stark announced before frowning at Sansa. "Bea wanted to know if she could decorate your lemon cake to make it more festive."

_'Ah, that's right; Sansa made her own wedding cake. Lemon flavored, of course.'_

"NO!" Sansa's eyes widened as they spun toward their mother. "Tell that woman that she is not to touch it, or so help me. . ."

Robb and the rest of his family simply grinned at her vehemence. Sansa had very few vices, if any at all. Her need to save and help everyone in trouble was a stupid trait, but not a vice. Lemon cakes, however. . . Well, lemon cakes were something she would blissfully eat, consequences be damned. He remembered being the one to introduce her to the treat - she must have been five at the time. Before that, their baker had died, and it took a while to find someone who could make sweets again.

He remembered her expression as she took her first bite of the treat. His somber, docile little sister's eyes had widened with abject surprise before she ate his entire slice. It wasn't until Sansa had finished that she realized he was looking at her and had seen her behavior. She ran off, face flushed, but the secret was out.

Jon, their brother, had come up with the great idea to get her a whole lemon cake for her nameday. Their lady mother had not been pleased that Jon suggested it, but she had grudgingly agreed. When Sansa's sixth nameday arrived, Jon and Robb surprised her with the cake.

For the first time their family could recall, the girl's eyes lit up like a girl her own age; none of the somber attitude that usually accompanied her could be found. Their father, from then on, had brought her different sweets to see if they elicited the same reaction, but none had ever come close.

Shortly thereafter, Sansa claimed the kitchen, much to the chef's ire, but now. . . Well, it worked out for everyone.

Sansa, having recovered from her outburst, blushed and left; nobody commented on the fact that she was heading toward the kitchen. Their lady mother followed a moment later with Arya in tow. Robb knew she hoped that Sansa's abilities would rub off on Arya, but she simply didn't have the talent - at least, not as much as Sansa.

This left the men of House Stark in one room. Bran, who had taken the seat beside him, smiled brightly. He'd found, soon after Arthur's arrival, that Bran would be Arthur's squire. Their father had told him to keep quiet in order to surprise his brother.

"I'm sorry we did not have much chance to talk," their father spoke up after a period of silence. "How have things truly been in my absence?"

"It's been going well, Father," Robb replied, taking on the lordly demeanor he had grown used to using at Winterfell. "Rickon has grown another head, if you can believe it; Uncle Benjen said so. I haven't seen it myself, though. Bran here didn't seem to grow at all from the last time I saw him."

Bran turned to him, offended, but their father merely chuckled. "Gods, do I miss Winterfell,"

"And Winterfell misses its lord, as does its people," Robb comforted, though his father waved it away.

"I did not want to ask in front of your mother, but..."

"Jon's doing fine, father." Robb nodded knowingly and his father gratefully smiled in return. Jon was a difficult subject between his parents. He understood his mother's hatred, and he should feel the same way, but he couldn't. Jon couldn't help being who he was, and he was very kind by nature. He knew Sansa loved Jon fiercely, due in part to their mother's treatment of him. It was one of the few times he had ever seen the mother and daughter pair at odds. "Uncle Benjen said that he has the making of an excellent Ranger."

Ned remained quiet for a while, and let out a sigh. "If only the boy had waited but a few more months. . . You know that Sansa had asked if it was too late for him to be part of her honor guard?"

Robb blinked with surprise as he did not know that, but he had to smile. Sansa was offering the one thing Jon craved: a place to belong to, perhaps even a chance of having a family of his own. But it was too late, now; his brother had foolishly taken the Black, and though Jon denied it, they both knew that it was because of his mother.

"Jon. . . Has always been hot-headed, despite his quiet nature," Robb said and looked at his father. "However, even though he's taken the Black, he will always be a Stark wolf."

"Aye, that he will," their father agreed, nodding his head. A moment later, his demeanor shifted slightly, alerting Robb to the change in subject. "I have been getting sporadic reports about more Wildling incursions south of the Wall. There are rumors about a new King Beyond the Wall according to the missive I received from Lord Commander Jeor. Has it been that bad?"

"Queen," Robb corrected, and his father blinked in surprise. "Uncle Benjen said the Wildlings are following a warrior Queen, but Lord Commander Mormont dismissed it. As for the incursion, it's very small - nothing we can't handle."

"A Queen, truly?" his father pondered as Robb merely confirmed what Uncle Benjen told him. "Never before in our history has there ever been a Queen Beyond the Wall... what could this mean?"

Robb looked his father straight in the eye. "What else could it mean, Father?"

He saw his father's face turn grave and nodded. "Aye, Winter is Coming."

+++ Sansa+++

Sansa Stark, known as Shirou Emiya in another lifetime, was looking at her groom. He was dancing with noble ladies lining up, eager for their chance to create a scandal. The two had only danced once before Sansa begged off, her thoughts on other urgent matters. Fortunately, her. . . husband had understood and mingled for the both of them. Her gaze moved to Mordred, who was near her table and chatting up Robb. He appeared flustered from the princess's attention; obviously, he had not gotten over his little crush.

_'Was I ever like that?'_

"The food is not to your liking?" Catelyn Stark frowned as Sansa stared at her plate.

"No, the food is acceptable, it's just...," Sansa began hesitantly while looking at her mother who returned it with a gentle look. Lady Stark appeared to understand what was bothering her.

"You're worried about your bedding," she guessed. Sansa nodded in response to her concerns.

"Don't be, things will happen the way they're supposed to; every maiden is nervous her first time."

Catelyn walked over to Sansa and began to straighten her dress a bit more; it was in the Stark's colors, rather than white as Mordred's had been. What Mordred had done was considered highly improper, but leniency was given as she was the Princess.

Her mother had been determined to have the wedding go off perfectly. It had - the ceremony, the seating arrangements, even being cloaked in Pendragon blue now - had gone perfectly. It seemed very important to her mother for it to happen. On some level, she understood, but she had to admit that her mother was a snob - it was how she had been raised.

For Sansa, the first daughter of Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell, to be wed as a third wife with two senior wives was an insult. The Stark-ruled realm was as big as the other Six Kingdoms, and yet she was third to wed the formerly exiled prince, who she was convinced might actually be _that_ Arturia whom the other Shirou spoke of, when she visited him in her Reality Marble.

The Pendragon name gave it away, but what was odd was Mordred. She could not tell if the girl was the Mordred of her old world, or a completely separate existence. The coincidence was too glaring, but did this mean that father married son - or mother married daughter? - if Mordred really was from Camelot. Still, there was evidence that spoke against the possibility.

Firstly, her previous existence as Shirou was male, and she was reborn female. Arturia, though a King, was female, and reborn male. The other Shirou had consulted with Arturia and confirmed that her Mordred was female, which meant that Mordred should have been born a male. Additionally, Arthur was born Viserys Targaryen, and she was born, Sansa Stark - though Mordred was born a Baratheon, she should have been given a different name to follow the pattern. Where magic - powerful magic, at that - was concerned, there should have been a common trend. All this reincarnation business seemed to have been about powerful magic, but she was still no closer to figuring out exactly why everything was as it was.

Why had she and Arturia been reincarnated? According to both Archer and Shirou, King Arthur's sheath, Avalon, was possibly inside of her. The only way she could actually find out was if she was exposed to Arthur for a prolonged period of time.

_'Or you can just let him 'sheath' himself inside of you and find out that way.'_

Sansa could have done without Archer's crude mocking. Thinking of Archer's words and what was to happen this night, she blushed.

_'That unhelpful asshole.'_

Had she been completely Shirou from her past life, she would never have been comfortable enough to go through with this wedding, but she had been raised as Sansa Stark. She realized that perhaps she had taken over the mind of the girl inside of her body, like a parasite. Archer had assured her that this probably wasn't the case, that Sansa was a blank vessel, but if Shirou had not been given Sansa's form, what would she have been like? Would she have been a good cook? skilled in archery? liked lemon cakes? These things caused her to keep her family at arms' length for the early part of her life - they loved Sansa, not her.

Eventually, she realized her family loved her for her, despite her quirks. She was fortunate to have been born into such a loving family. So Sansa had reached an accord with the Shirou part of her. She would continue to do whatever she wanted with Shirou's abilities, but she would live the life that was originally _only_ Sansa's to the fullest. If that meant learning how to knit, partaking in the Faith of the Seven, studying about nobility, or even getting married and birthing children, then so be it.

She owed it to the girl she could have been, and the family she now had.

Still, Sansa had been a boy and learned Sex Ed as a boy. She didn't know much about sex as a girl; her mother gave her the sanitized version when she was younger, of course, but what did having a girl's body entail on her wedding night? Was she supposed to lay there and let Arthur do all the work? She found asking Mordred had not been helpful, as the girl merely blushed and stammered before changing the subject.

The only thing anyone was sure of was that Mordred had been "eaten" by the dragon, as Margery had teased. The Tyrell girl actually congratulated both her and Mordred on finding such a husband that would do that for his lady wife. Margery, apparently a lot more experienced than she let on, explained how most noblemen only knew one way of love making. Still, if Arthur was willing to do _that_, then their bedroom lives would not be boring at all, and they should count themselves blessed.

While Sansa had been more than prepared for sex the proper way, the thought of having Arthur between her legs and licking her there brought another bout of blushing to her face. Still, if it pleased him, she would endure it. After all, the Shirou in her meetings had no qualms about "eating a dragon" as Archer crudely pointed out. She and Shirou had blushed, but when she looked to Shirou for confirmation, he merely nodded.

Of course, Archer went on about stupid karma again, and she was beginning to think that the asshole was right. Still, if the other Shirou was willing to pleasure his Arturia in that manner, then she really could not do less than be on the receiving end of Arthur's ministrations.

"It's not too late for me to stop the traditional Bedding, if you want," Catelyn suddenly spoke, taking her out of her musing.

Sansa simply shook her head. "No, it's fine; Princess Mordred was able to go through with it, so I can do no less. Besides, didn't you also endure it at your wedding to father?"

Her mother frowned a bit, but nodded her head. The Bedding Ceremony was an ancient tradition simply to grope the bride before the groom.

"Well, you'd best prepare yourself; it's going to happen soon," her mother warned before she lightly brushed a lock of her red hair back in place.

"You didn't raise me to be weak now, did you, mother?" Sansa's teasing elicited a smile from her mother.

"No, I did not, sweetling," Catelyn murmured, but her eyes spoke of the pride she had in her daughter. "I raised you to be Queen."

Sansa shook her head to stop her mother's line of thought. What was done was done. Besides, she had always felt that Joffrey was a bit off; between him and Arthur, she'd choose Arthur every time. She could not help but be grateful that he'd wagered their engagement, and pity Margery for her upcoming engagement to Joffrey, which would of course be announced after her wedding. Her father had ensured that the King would not try to force another union between Stark and Baratheon, really one between Arya and Joffrey. Their personalities made it easy to judge that they'd get along about as well as oil and water.

"It's time for the Bedding!" Smalljon Umber loudly slurred. Of course, once the call was started, the other young lords took it up as they rose from their seats and stalked toward her.

Recalling Mordred's dignified stance, drunk though she was when it happened to her, Sansa stood proudly. She saw Robb, Bran, and her father moving in to attempt to defend her honor. The King had remained seated with the Queen - a surprise, really, as she had always heard the King loved the Bedding ceremony and had always been the first to call for it. Her eyes caught Mordred's, and Mordred only dipped her head slightly and mouthed, "Good luck!" before she sat back down and chatted with her Uncle Tyrion.

Smalljon, her most persistent suitor, was the first to reach her and lifted her up high before tossing her to the crowd of men. Lord Bolton's son were the first to rip her bodice off of her as they carried her to the chamber. Looking around even as large hands groped her backside and budding breasts, she saw Arthur surrounded by noble ladies whose lecherous looks mirrored those of the men.

Sansa realized that the men's strength allowed them to reach the chamber relatively quickly, even as she found herself clad only in panties. She felt a rough hand tugging at it before Robb's fist smashed into the offender's mouth. A second later, she found herself pulled into a protective embrace and a large blue-grey cloak covered her. She knew who it was immediately.

"Father," she murmured softly.

"Alright, you lot, you've had your fun, now off you go!" Robb chastised the young men, some older than him, causing them to grumble and leave.

"I am proud of you, Sansa," her father whispered into her ears as he hugged her and Robb opened the door to the chamber.

"After you, my lady." Robb bowed with a flourish, making her smile. Just as she passed the threshold, however, he put a hand on her shoulder. "If he forces you to do something you don't want, scream, and I will come for you. I promise."

Sansa had to grin at that. "You forget yourself sir, you are my sidekicks while _I_ am the Hero."

Robb rolled his eyes at her. She had told her brothers about her dream to be a hero of justice, back when she was younger and unaware of how this world worked. To Robb's and Jon's credit, however, they decided to help her in her endeavor until Father put a stop to it.

"So? Even heroes need saving from time to time." Robb winked, before he pushed her through the door and shut it.

And just like that, she found herself alone in the Bedding chamber. She could hear the ladies' giggles growing closer by the second. The chamber was large and spacious, no doubt one of the largest bedrooms in Riverrun's keep. There were plenty of candles lit, and another piece of her lemon cake and some red wine sat on the table. Her mother must have had the cake brought up for her comfort.

Sansa brought her attention to the bed and found it a good deal larger than the one she owned at Red Keep. Certainly, more than two people could lay on this bed. Still, this was the bed where she and Arthur would. . would...

She blushed hotly, knowing full well Arthur's preferences in advance. To prepare, she had made sure to scrub herself cleaner than ever before, especially down there, as Archer had said nothing was more embarrassing than finding it odious, like a fish. The other Shirou had nodded his head in agreement - if the two agreed on something, it was definitely serious, so she had bathed herself in scented water until she was immaculate.

The door to the camber opened suddenly, and someone shoved a very naked Arthur, who was trying to maintain his modesty, inside. Sansa saw Dacey Mormont's hand snake out and smack her husband's hard bottom, eliciting delighted squeals from the ladies in the hall before the door closed.

There was a moment of silence as Arthur, who appeared to be adorably flustered, looked back at the door before his attention turned to her. She suddenly found her breath caught in her throat as she realized that she was about to be bedded.

"L-Lord Husband," Sansa murmured demurely, thinking of what was to come.

"Lady Wife," Arthur replied in a confident tone, and his gaze softened upon seeing her. He said nothing as he looked at her, and she realized that her father's cloak was still covering her.

Slowly, Sansa shrugged the cloak off her shoulders and exposed herself fully to her husband.

"Do-does it please you, My Lord?" she recited the exact words her mother taught her.

"Yes." Arthur nodded gently before he removed his hand from his groin. The moment he did so, her eyes widened with genuine surprise and envy. While she was no slacker as Shirou, Arthur's package was too unfair! She now knew why Mordred had assumed Arthur would kill her on her wedding night.

When she told that story to Archer and Shirou, they had theorized that Mordred, if she really was Camelot's Mordred, was referring to _Rhongoyniad_, the spear that took her life. They were wrong. They were so _completely_ wrong! Clearly, Mordred was referring to this. . . monster.

_'And it's not even hard yet... oh my gods, he's going to kill me...'_

Arthur's expression softened - apparently, he sensed her unease. "My lady, you are young still; if you do not wish to, I would not be displeased or offended."

Sansa looked from Arthur's "spear" to his face, and was surprised by his generous offer. Judging from his expression, he was completely fine with not bedding her. But she remembered brave Mordred, who had to face the dragon down by herself. While Sansa might have been younger in body, she felt that she was mentally older than Mordred. As such, despite their ages, she considered Mordred her younger sister, and if her younger sister could have bedded the dragon on their wedding night... she could do no less.

"No," Sansa said firmly as she walked toward him and looked into his eyes. "I... I am ready, just... Please be gentle. I'm..."

As though understanding her plight, Arthur nodded and led her to their bed. Her heart was hammering in her chest a mile a minute, threatening to burst free of her ribcage. Was he going to put _that_ in her or use his mouth on her, first?

"You can still back out, My Lady; I swear on my honor, I'll not think ill of you for it," Arthur offered again, apparently having seen the doubt on her face.

"No, Mordred did it; I can, too," Sansa replied firmly, and saw Arthur's expression twist into something unreadable at the mention of Mordred. Just as quickly as it came, it was gone. He nodded once and stroke her cheeks softly.

Slowly, he lowered his lips and captured hers. Immediately, a wave of pleasure ran through her body, followed by a burst of golden light that made her body burn hotter. She felt faint and found herself falling backward onto the bed, her vision of Arthur getting hazy until she was surrounded by darkness, the only light was emanating from her. It was a golden glorious light that absolutely enthralled her that was until what happened next.

Suddenly Sansa found herself falling through some sort of dark tunnel - which thankfully had a light at the end. Was this a dream? What happened to Arthur? What was going on?

She received an answer to her questions moments later, when she passed through the light and found herself in free fall over an ocean of lava. Dark clouds and red light permeated the cavern.

_'What's going on...?'_

**RAWRRRRRRR**!

'_What the hell was that?!_' Sansa thought as she turned her head toward the sound. There, bathing in the sea of lava, was an honest-to-gods behemoth of a dragon.

+++ Cersei +++

Cersei held her head high as she watched her daughter bend down to one knee to hug the disgusting little Imp. What the girl saw in the disgusting half man, she'd never know, but judging by the way she was laughing, he had probably told her a bawdy joke. Not far off were Robert, Tommen, Myrcella, and others in line to bid Mordred farewell. After all, she was to leave for Harrenhal with her husband today.

Thoughts of the last Targaryen heir caused her eyes to dart over to the caravan where the Stark girl and her family were talking earnestly. Hugs so sweet they made Cersei's teeth ache were being exchanged. It wasn't as though the Stark girl would be alone. She was bringing her little sister and younger brother with her. Apparently, Lord Stark felt that since the majority of the girl's family would be at Harrenhal, she could spend time with her sister for a while longer. In a protective circle around them were the men of Blackhaven - they would be responsible for escorting the entire Pendragon party to its new home. Mordred's honor guard should already be there to secure the new land holdings. Lord Arthur was speaking with Beric and his lady wife, Allyria Dayne, a little off to the side of the party.

"Enjoy your new position as Master of Coin, Uncle."

Mordred's voice brought Cersei's attention to the odd looking pair, a true case of beauty and the beast if she'd ever seen it. She had to curl her lips a bit; at Mordred's insistence, the new Master of Coin was now her half-man of a brother. A better position than he deserved. Now, all they needed to do was find a new Master of Whisperers, since Varys had taken all of his belongings and left King's Landing in the dead of night, according to her spies.

What could have ever possessed the eunuch to leave? It had even taken Robert by surprise; the fat, perfumed man had served the royal family for as long as anyone could remember, and just like that, he left. That was the reason that the Royal party would not be leaving Riverrun with the Pendragon party. Robert and Lord Stark were trying to convince Brynden Tully to become the new Master of Whisperers. However, as the Blackfish stayed trued to his name and refused the position, Robert decided to stay and badger him into accepting.

Stepping past her children, Cersei glared at the dwarf to make him leave. The less the dwarf touched her daughter, the better.

"Lovely sister," Tyrion greeted with a bow, before turning to squeeze Mordred's arm. "Good luck, niece."

"Remember, Uncle, your job is to _earn_ the Kingdom some coin, not spend it in the brothels," Mordred japed before she stood to face Cersei.

Looking at her daughter, Cersei noticed that the girl had completely adopted the new colors of her house. Even as Queen, Cersei still held onto her Lannister pride and wore red the majority of the time. Yet on Mordred, there was not a single stitch of gold or red to be seen. Instead, she wore a pretty blue and white dress. Loathe though she was to admit it, it suited her daughter more than gold or red would have.

"Do you need anything else sent to you?" Cersei asked softly.

Mordred startled before gracing her with a soft smile. "I believe that's everything; you did remember to have Arthur's money sent to Harrenhal, right?"

Cersei almost rolled her eyes. She was a Lannister, first and foremost, and a Lannister always paid their debts. "As if you have to ask, but you won't be getting 400,000 dragons.

Mordred bristled, probably thinking that she'd backed out on her word, before she continued, anticipating Mordred's reaction.

"You will be getting a million."

Cersei enjoyed Mordred's confused look; Mordred was now staring at her suspiciously, as if believing her own mother would plot against her.

"How? You only promised Arthur four hundred thousand."

Now smirking widely, she locked eyes with Mordred. "The other six hundred thousand dragons are a wedding gift from your grandfather."

Enjoying the wide-eyed, stupefied look on her daughter's face, Cersei mused on her father's gift to her daughter. Truth be told, Cersei herself was surprised when she received the missive. She thought the two loathed each other; the only collaboration she was aware of was that they worked together to get rid of Robert's bastards. Odd though it was, her father respected strength, and the Seven knew Mordred had strength in abundance.

Mordred slowly gathered herself and looked at her. "W-why would he do that?! We've never gotten along!"

"Believe it or not," Cersei began in an amused tone, "I think he likes you."

Reaching out, she pushed her daughter's jaw back in place; gaping was unseemly.

"Do be sure to send him a 'thank you' letter; after all, it's a very generous gift."

Before Mordred could respond, Cersei embraced her daughter fiercely. Sinking her head into her daughters shoulders, she softly whispered, "Know that I will always love you, sweetling, and will miss you around the Red Keep. You are a woman now, a Lannister; never forget that."

She felt Mordred stiffen up at first, but the girl gradually softened and returned her hug. "Believe it or not, I will miss you too, mother; I know we haven't gotten along as we should, but I do. . . love you."

Cersei felt her eyes water; her daughter, who had always been ambiguous about her affection, had let her know exactly where she stood. It warmed her heart, as she too had craved Mordred's, her first born's, love. Suppressing a sniffle, she broke away from her daughter just in time for Tommen and Myrcella to run toward their sister.

"Mordred!" the two younger siblings shouted as they tackled the girl, making all three siblings stumble. Some of the attending nobles looked scandalized, but the children didn't care.

"Can I come with you? Please?" Tommen begged his sister, eyes watery. "You promised you'd teach me how to fight!"

Mordred ruffled her little brother's head. "When you are of age, you'll be my squire; how's that?"

Tommen's chubby cheeks puffed out. "I can't be _your _squire, you're _the Princess_!"

"So?" Mordred tease before Tommen buried his head into her chest, wailing about her unfairness.

"I will miss you, sister; the keep will be lonely without you," Myrcella commented sadly. Her eyes were still watery, but she maintained her dignified posture. Good, she remembered Cersei's lessons.

"Well, I'm not too far." Mordred smiled at her younger sister. "You can still come visit if you ever learn how to properly ride a horse."

"Mordred!" Myrcella whined; she wasn't able to ride a horse like Mordred. Suddenly, the younger blonde beauty fell onto her sister and hugged her tightly.

Mordred closed her eyes and enjoyed her siblings' warmth. "If Joffrey steps out of line, write to me; I'll ride back and teach him the true meaning of fear."

_'Like I'd let you!'_ Cersei fumed. Though it was unbecoming of her, she favored Joffrey over Mordred because he was her firstborn son. To her relief, Mordred didn't care about her favoritism, but she also didn't care about ensuring Joffrey's welfare.

Myrcella sighed softy in Mordred's embrace. "I think out of all of us, he'll miss you most of all."

A little too much, in Cersei's opinion, but then it had finally dawned on her at the tourney that Joffrey loved his sister in much the same way she and Jaime loved each other. It took Robert of all people to point it out to her.

"Well, I think you're getting a new sister, soon; Margery is very nice," Mordred assured her sister.

The mention of Margery Tyrell made Cersei frown. The girl was too cunning by half, and she was almost certain that the Tyrells would make a power play. On the other hand, she could not help but think that the Tyrell was the best match in terms of wealth and manpower.

"Alright, you two, my turn!" Robert's loud voice startled both of his youngest children as the two immediately scrambled away from their sister.

Before Mordred could defend herself, she found she was already lifted and being hugged tightly by Robert. While the man had never truly acted like a father to her other children, what Mordred had with him was more than she could have asked for. The man gave her daughter _Harrenhal_. Strips of lands and titles were expected, but _Harrenhal_ itself?

Despite herself, Cersei felt a growing affection for the fat oaf.

"I'll truly miss you, you ungrateful brat," Robert whispered with genuine affection as he squeezed the smaller blonde.

"Well, try not to drink yourself into an early grave, and for the Sevens' sake, stop hunting without a larger entourage!" Mordred chided the larger man, who only rolled his eyes. She suddenly looked down, not meeting Robert's gaze. "I won't be there to take care of you anymore, you know. . ."

"Hah! Take care? Is that what you called it?" Robert laughed at her before falling silent at her glare. "A-aye. . . despite your faults, and the Seven know there are many, fare too many - like, a lot! I mean, a really large-"

"Get to the point!" Mordred shouted with agitation.

"Right - er, I'll try to survive long enough to see my first grandchild birthed; after that, I make no promises!" Robert declared magnanimously.

Cersei had to grin at Mordred's flummoxed look. Oh, that was too rich! The girl hadn't even thought about children, yet. What else did she think Arthur bedded her for? Though, thoughts of bedding made her look at the Stark girl with sympathy. She happened to overhear a few snippets of Mordred's conversation with the girl the day after the wedding.

_'So did he eat you too?'_

_'Y-yes, but not before it tore my- wait someone's listening.'_

The girl's instincts were good, but it had been a Northern girl, Alys Karstark, who was spotted rather than Cersei. By the next day, everyone knew of Arthur's deed; some ladies found it scandalous, while others found it exciting. Cersei herself was part of the latter group, but the Sansa girl now had a permanent blush due to the rumor. The "Devouring Dragon" was Arthur's little nickname, much to Lady Catelyn's and Lord Stark's displeasure.

As if sensing her thoughts, Arthur approached her daughter and nudged her elbow slightly.

"Wife, we are ready to depart when you are," Arthur suddenly spoke from behind Mordred, making her jump. Upon seeing him, Robert's promise came to mind, causing her to blush.

"I will be but a moment," Mordred replied with a blush. Cersei was amazed that the girl no longer stuttered while talking to her husband, though.

Arthur simply nodded before putting his hand on her shoulder and giving it a light squeeze.

"Hah, still blushing! It looks disgusting on your face!" Robert needled and stood firm against Mordred's glare. Unlike previous confrontations, however, Mordred softened as her eyes passed over her family members one last time, before turning back to Robert.

"I'll miss you," Mordred spoke with heartfelt conviction. Robert's expression softened at her tone, but the girl was not finished. "All of you: Mother, Myrcella, and Tommen. Hell, I'll even miss Joffrey."

Cersei found herself touched once more by her daughter's tone, but their immediate laughter at Joffrey's name hardened her heart once more.

"Will you grant me a favor before I leave, father?"

Cersei and Robert blinked. Mordred rarely asked for favors, only ever gambling against Robert, so it was a bit suspicious.

"What do you want?" Robert asked suspiciously, his eyes narrowing a bit at her.

Mordred suddenly smiled. "I don't think it's fair that Sansa's the only one that can bring family with her. I don't want to be the lone Stag among Wolves and Dragons. . ."

Clever girl, playing up House Baratheon and not House Lannister.

"What? You want Renly or Stannis to come live with you?" Robert snorted, and Mordred shard his amusement.

Cersei, however, stood closer to Tommen and Myrcella, glaring at the girl. She'd never allow Mordred to take any of her siblings with her. They were _her_ children, even if the two looked excited at the prospect.

Feeding her ever-growing suspicion, Mordred simply smiled benignly at her.

"I know Tommen and Myrcella cannot come with me," Mordred reasoned regretfully, forcing crestfallen looks upon her siblings. That made Cersei felt a bit relieved, until she heard Mordred's next words.

"I think I would need a big, strong Lion to protect me from the Wolves."

Cersei's heart suddenly contracted as her eyes bored into her unfazed daughter. Her eyes had been on her father the entire time.

_'She wouldn't fucking dare!'_

"So if you don't mind, could I borrow Uncle Jaime until I get Harrenhal in order?"

"_No! She can't! Tell her Robert!'_

"And how long would that take?" Robert asked suddenly, his face skeptical. For once, Cersei felt immense gratitude toward the man. Good; he sensed the girl's deception, too.

"Oh, perhaps five, ten years?" Mordred gave an estimate with a shrug of her shoulders.

'_Hah_! _Robert would never allow that, you foolish girl!'_

"Selmy, can we afford to part with the Kingslayer for so long?" Robert asked the Commander of the Kingsguard. He was still doubtful about the prospect.

Cersei turned her attention to the famous knight and saw her brother was lost about the new development. That was her Jaime, though: a great fighter, but not so great a thinker.

However, that was when she noticed the brief exchanging of glances between Mordred and Ser Barristan, and a sinking feeling formed in her gut.

_'He wouldn't dare!'_

"Easily, Your Grace," Barristan answered after a few moments' thought.

Mordred grinned victoriously and beckoned to the Kingsguard. "Come, Uncle, we'll have so much fun!"

Cersei decided that she had stayed silent long enough. "Robert, you can't simply give away a member of the Kingsguard!"

Robert appeared deep in thought as he looked between her and Mordred, but the little girl wasn't done. She was looking at him with big, pleading eyes, eyes that had Robert wrapped around her finger when she was younger. Eyes she hadn't used in over ten years.

"I know he's your brother, but you have more family with you than she does," Robert reasoned in his kingly voice. He nodded to Mordred. "It is done; Kingslayer, go with your niece now, before your sister makes a scene."

_'You fucking useless bastard!'_

"Come along, Uncle Jaime. We'll have _so _much fun at Harrenhal!" Mordred beckoned to Jaime, who numbly followed. A moment later, her daughter locked eyes with her and smiled.

Mordred played her - the little rat bastard's spawn played her! The bitch took Jaime away from her! She could only watch, suffering in silence as Mordred left with her brother, taking her other half away from her.

_'Damn you to the Seven Hells, Mordred! Damn you~~~!'_

End Book 1

AN: No, you are not seeing wrong, this is an actual update! That's right, thanks to my awesome editors, I was able to roll this out relatively fast back to back! I also can't believe I am now in the 300+ Review club for this story. I wonder if I would make to to 400. Thanks to do that enjoy this story! Thank you!

As for those leaving a review! Thanks for the great encouragement! :) Enjoy this reward for your support! Sometime, when it hits you, it hits you!

Naturally a lot of stuff happen in this chapter. I love the guesses for the last chapter ^_^, but now you see more of the reaction from everyone else. Sansa-Shirou reaction as the Wedding was nothing special. The Cake,w ell I think I went on about the cake enough. Arthur and Sansa bedding scene... well Northern women are more wild, Arthur pretty much gave them a strip show.

Finally! The final cock block from our favorite rebellious bastard! ^_^

./Sniff sniff... I think I need an oil change in my engine, it's about to catch on FIRE!

As always C+C welcome reviews definitely appreciated!


	12. Book 2: Chapter 1

Game of Thrones belong to G.R.R.M

Fate Stay Night belong to Type Moon

**Special Thanks** goes to Deer Shifter and Delaney Telos! Those two worked immensely hard on this fic to polished it. If I could do a kneeling praising Icon I would!

**HELP WANTED: **Due to real life issue for both Deer Shifter and Delaney, they would be unable to help me edit future chapters of this fic at least until they are free again. If you would like to lend a hand, then by all means please send me a PM. If not, prepare to suffer through bad writing :D

A Throne Nobody Wants

Book 2: Chapter 1

**** Harrenhal- Arthur***

"That is a stupidly huge castle!" Mordred loudly exclaimed upon seeing the massive stone structure.

At her outburst, Arthur turned to look at the Princess riding next to him. The girl seemed to be making more of an effort to be sociable toward him after their talk. He could tell she was still nervous around him, but she grew less jumpy as they spent more time together. He couldn't help but find her efforts endearing, in a way.

In all honesty, he did not mind his marriage to Mordred; aside from her name, the girl was very... sweet. Arthur's plans had involved eventually settling down and getting married, with a family. It was, after all, his secret wish in his previous life, and now a goal in this one. The hurdle that was his sister's marriage had held him back; he would not marry until he was certain Daenerys was safe. The fact that he was forced to marry the Princess did not change that fact; all in all, it was not a bad match. He could have done a lot worse.

Turning to his right, Arthur's eyes fell upon Sansa; she insisted that he not be so formal with her and just call her Sansa. He found it oddly refreshing that she'd let him do that; after all, she'd been raised by Lady Catelyn. He had expected strict observance of decorum, not such indiscretion. The pretty redhead was tall for her age, as tall as Mordred, even. It was hard to believe she was closing in on fourteen years.

"Arthur?" Sansa asked, feeling his gaze on her. Her face had been permanently stained red since their wedding night.

Thoughts of their wedding night made Arthur pensive. He looked toward the massive black stone structure in the distance and let his thoughts run wild. Once again, something odd occurred, though not like with Mordred. There was no spark when he kissed Sansa.

No, it was something... rejuvenating.

...

As strange as it sounded, he drew strength from their intimate kiss, the day's fatigue fleeing his body. In fact, Arthur hadn't felt such an effect in his body since... Caliburn, or Avalon. Both were lost to him, but Arthur wondered if the Stark's line had some magical power with a similar effect; they were, after all, said to be descended from the First Men who had an unknown relationship with the Children of the Forest in the distant past. For a religion to endure longer than twelve thousand years was unheard of in his old world, yet the Old Gods, and the Faith of the Seven had lasted for thousands of years. Then there was the recent Lord of Light R'hllor that formed - more recent than the other two, that is. That told Arthur that there was powerful magic in this world, beside the odd seasonal changes.

To test his theory, Arthur had boldly asked Sansa for permission to kiss her a few times after he'd exhausted himself on purpose. If she had denied him he would've accepted it, but she always meekly accepted. Arthur found that a chaste kiss had no effect, but deeper, more intimate kisses activated whatever it was and gave him an incredible surge of energy. He didn't want to take too many liberties, and so kissed her in enough different ways to realize that the more intimate the kiss, the more power he received. Unfortunately, he was not a mage, and there was no Merlin to explain what was happening, so he would just have to accept that it was something that happened to him, here in Westeros.

Of course, there was that strange spark with Mordred. So Arthur had requested her permission and experimented with her too, using a variety of different kissing techniques. Thanks to Guinevere, though he was never able to fulfill his duties as her husband, he learned how to kiss. He was quite confident in his ability to please a woman but could not find what the initial spark that knocked Mordred out was.

"Arthur?" Sansa asked with a questioning lilt.

"Sorry, I was just thinking about that place." Arthur smiled at her, causing her face to redden once more. He then nodded to Mordred with his agreement. "You are correct, Princess; that castle is excessively large."

"Arthur, riders! At least twelve, they bear House Whent's banners." Beric rode toward Arthur and pointed to the incoming riders.

"Excuse me, my lady wives." Arthur nodded to his two wives and looked to the little boy behind them. "You're with me, Bran."

Bran Stark, Arthur's official squire, excitedly nodded. Next to him was his goodsister Arya, who looked happy just being there. Unlike other lords, he did not require Bran to carry his swords, shield, or other equipment; instead, he began the boy's training by making him wear fitted armor. It was lighter of course, as he didn't want to stunt the boy's growth, but it would make his body stronger.

Arthur rode to the front of the escort where Beric waited, just as the men from House Whent arrived. At the head of the procession was a helmetless knight; the man looked to be in his thirties, and wore a trimmed black beard. His expression was calm, giving away none of his thoughts.

Upon seeing Arthur's banner himself, he and his party dismounted and knelt before Arthur. Arthur had also dismounted, as a sign of respect.

"Greetings, Lord Pendragon, Lord Dondarrion. I, Willis Wode, temporary custodian of Harrenhal, greet its new lord," the man announced formally.

"Thank you, Ser Wode," Arthur replied just as formally and motioned for the man to rise. "I am sorry to hear of your Lady's passing, and thank you for protecting Harrenhal in her absence."

The knight looked up, the tightening of his eyes the only thing that betrayed him as he nodded. "I thank you for your kind words, Lord Pendragon, but we have a situation that demands your immediate attention; I would have greeted you properly at Harrenhal itself, otherwise."

Arthur looked at the dark haired man before exchanging a look with Beric.

"My men are yours if you need them, Arthur," Beric immediately offered, his face grave while his hand fell to his sword.

"Could you shed some light on the situation, Ser Wode?" Arthur politely asked as the man grimaced.

"It is the Princess's and Lady Stark's honor guards, my lord," Ser Wode began hesitantly, trying to find the right words. "They appear to be at odds with the sellswords you hired. . ."

Arthur's eyes widened in alarm; they were giving the men he hired a tough time? His face set and his fists tightened. "Have they been injured?"

Ser Willis was surprised by the question but quickly shook his head. "No, my Lord, the honor guards refuse to allow the sellswords entry to Harrenhal; to their credit, the sellswords have not made much of an issue, only saying that they'll wait for your arrival. However, their presence disrupts the smallfolk and patrols are not being done to eliminate bandits as the guards are more focused on watching your sellswords."

"Why are they refusing my men entry?" Arthur glowered at the disrespect toward his hired help. "I sent word in advance; all parties should be aware that they were coming."

"It _is_ because of your words that they are being denied entry, My Lord," Ser Wode explained, though his voice shook a little. "That is one of the reasons we could not trust them."

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked, perplexed and a bit offended. "They are five hundred men against thirty-five hundred; what possible threat could they pose?"

Ser Wode looked at the man next to him before turning back to Arthur. "My Lord, if there were five hundred sellswords like your letter stated, then they would have been welcomed."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Surely you didn't count the smiths and stonemasons I hired as sellswords, too!"

"My Lord-" Ser Wode said, now looking a bit alarmed. "There are three _thousand_ sellswords camped in front of Harrenhal right now, not including those who might be trade workers."

Arthur's eyes widened. No, that couldn't be right. "Lord Beric, please stop the caravan here; I will go see why there is such a discrepancy in their numbers."

"Arthur, take some of my men with you." Beric motioned with his hand. Fifty of his knights broke off and lined up behind Arthur.

"Thank you, Beric. Bran, stay here," Arthur ordered his squire. He then turned to the custodian of Harrenhal. "Lead the way, Ser Wode."

The man nodded and mounted his steed before the group of sixty rode for Harrenhal. About fifteen minutes later, they crested the final hills, and there, laid out before the black castle, was a large army.

Immediately, his eyes found their symbols, and he gaped. That didn't make sense! He saw the Eagle's flag, but the presence of the Axe Lords and Warrior's Maidens confounded him.

"Hup!" Arthur struck his reigns and rode ahead of Ser Wode to the sellsword encampment.

It was an Eagle who spotted him, first - Neron, a young recruit he had picked up from Myr.

"Company! Lord Pendragon has returned!"

Immediately, the men and women stopped what they were doing and lined up.

Arthur looked at the group with amazement. There were at least a thousand Eagles here! Another thousand were the Axe Lords and the remaining thousand were hardened looking women. They, most of all, confused him - he had never worked with the Warrior's Maidens, after all.

A tough, grizzled man - a Dothraki raised in the Free Cities, one of Arthur's battle group - emerged from the crowd.

"Captain Pendra! Or should I say Lord _Pendragon _now?" Seroah, their expert bowman, greeted with a smart salute, but the smile on his face revealed his amusement.

"Seroah, wha-what is going on here? I only asked for five hundred!" Arthur had dismounted and faced his friend.

"Hah! Five Hundred for you?!" Seroah laughed before he turned to the rest of the Eagle's. "Men! Our resident pretty boy thought he could just pick five hundred men and say fuck the rest!"

There was a roaring laughter from the Eagle's followed by the Bloody Axes before disparaging shouts could be heard.

"That dense whoreson!"

"Arthur! Arthur, the oblivious!"

"You're lucky we like you!"

"I can't believe you were gonna leave us behind! Ungrateful dragon bastard!"

"Ah, the men have spoken," Seroah laughed as he clapped Arthur shoulders. Arthur was in complete shock. He moved his eyes through the ranks again and saw the men were all smiling at him in a condescending manner.

"Bu-but I can't afford this many men..." Arthur brought up first rule of every sellsword company: payment.

"Ah well, good thing you don't have to pay for them," the huge Dothraki man grinned before he took a seal enveloped and handed to him. "From your lovely sister."

Arthur opened up the letter slowly and read what Daenerys had to say.

'_Greetings My Love, -'_

"My love?" Arthur muttered, cold beads of sweat starting to form on his head. That's- that's not how a sister should address her brother.

_'I hope this find letter finds you in good health. I must say that when news reached me that you received Harrenhal as a dowry gift, I was a bit amazed. However from what you had told me of Harrenhal it was a large castle, that's good, you'll need it for the men I am sending to you for your protection._

_Since our identities have been revealed, things have been hectic over here, I have been dining with the head of Volantis everyday it almost seems like. However, all of that is trivial to what I have to tell you. The men of the Eagles wants to serve you as your liege men. According to Commander Belidos, you have given the men back something they thought missing in their lives. Honor. They want to serve honorably and they have chosen you to be their lord._

_I have always known that was the case, but as smart and brilliant as you are brother, you tend to fail to see the most obvious thing in front of you. Of which, one of it is me, I AM your WIFE, do not forget that, I don't care if that Baratheon slut slept with you or the Stark bitch fucked you. When I arrive we will be consummating our marriage and if you try to weasel your way out of that, I swear on the Seven and the Old gods, I will hunt you down no matter where you run!_

_Just so that you are aware of our situation. That being said..._

_The other is how you draw out the best in people. You have made the Eagle's Brood your men for years now, you just never realized it. When they found out you were never to return to Essos, they unanimously decided to follow you. Their money is now our treasury money, their families will be coming to you in blocks throughout the year. I have looked at the territory we been gifted with and included with this letter is a map of where the Eagle's think they could settle their families with your permission._

_Of course, there were a couple of surprises that I could not anticipate. That being that other Sellsword Companies you have worked with have also been inspired to follow you. Along with staying here to get certain affairs in order. Captain Belidos will be helping me screen those that want to join us over in Westeros. So you need not worry about money. They are your men, they will now earn YOU money._

_Along with the two thousand men I have sent a larger workforce than the one you have requested. Since we have Harrenhal maybe they can be put to work erecting new towns._

_Your loving sister and First Wife,_

_Daenerys Stormborn Targaryen Pendragon'_

Arthur jaw could only drop at what he had read. His... his sister hasn't gotten over him at all! The Eagle's are now his liege men?! How? When? Wait... his sister wrote two thousand men, why were one thousand of the most elite female Sellsword group here?

"Seroah, my sister said you should only have two thousand men, why do we have three?" Arthur asked and saw Ser Wode's stance relax slightly seeing that he have accepted these men as his.

"Ah... about that, I'll let Captain Gywr explain it to you, she merged her group with ours just a couple of hours before we departed Pentos," the man had a strange look on his face. It only took a moment for Arthur to realize what it was.

"You- You're smitten with this woman?" Arthur grinned at the Free City raised Dothraki. "I cannot believe there would ever be a day where you would ever be tied down to a single woman."

The large bowman had the good grace to blush before his eyes twinkled in amusement. "Yeah well, it's nothing compare to what you achieved_ Your Grace_, four wives now is it?"

Arthur physically staggered a bit as if struck by Seroah's words, he had no counter for that...

"The men do not think it is weird that Daenerys and I are..."

"Married? Fucking? Who gives a shit!" Seroah spat a bit on the side. "Far as we ever been concerned, she's your wife. So what if she's your sister? You're of Targaryen blood, it's normal."

"R-right... normal," Arthur looked a bit down at that thought... his men pretty much excused him.

"I'll get captain Gywr for you," the giant of a man smirked before snapping a smart salute and walking away.

"So... everything is in order Lord Pendragon?" Ser Wode asked after seeing the giant of a man leave.

"Yes... I believe it is," Arthur replied before he turned to the Custodian. "Might I trouble you to let Lord Dondarrion know that these are indeed my men and that he should escort the caravan here? I would need the Princess and Lady Stark to talk to their honor guards."

"As you command, My Lord," Ser Wode pounded a fist to his chest before riding off toward the caravan.

Moments later Seroah returned with a pretty sandy brown haired woman who, unbelievably, was as tall as Seroah. The captain of the Maiden's Warriors was lightly armored showing her exposed skin, which had a slightly tanned hue to it. Her eyes were steel grey blue, and she walked as if she commanded the area. Most shocking of all was the large claymore she had strapped to her back. Behind him he could hear some of Beric's men stirring as they caught sight of the beauty.

As she reached him she got down to one knee and bowed for him. "Lord Pendragon, I greet you as Captain of the Warrior's Maidens. Might I request a private audience?"

Arthur saw his battle brother looked at him in envy before he walked away. Turning to Beric's men, he nodded to them making them fan out of earshot leaving the two standing alone.

"We're alone now, Captain," Arthur nodded over to the woman who stood a full head taller than him.

The woman looked at him, her eyes searching, hesitation in her eyes before she bit her lower lip and nodded, as if she just determined a course of action.

"Lord Pendragon..." Gywr began softly looking directly in his eyes. "Does 'Camelot' and 'Britannia' mean anything to you?"

Arthur eyes widened hearing those words uttered for the first time since he's been in this world from someone else other than him. He saw immense relief on the woman's face as she smiled happily.

"So it wasn't just me and Galina after all," Gywr sighed happily before she searched his face again. "You are, or were, _her_ weren't you?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes and decided to test out the knowledge only a hand full of his knights have ever known. "Her, who?"

Gywr looked a bit surprised to be tested before she looked around and whispered slowly. "Arturia."

Arthur looked at the woman, her demeanor and remembered only one knight in his former retinue that carried himself this way.

"Gawain?"

+++ Sansa +++

Sansa patted Taiga's head as she looked at what was her home for the past two weeks. It was a gloomy place, and there was something off about the interior that gave her the chills. This castle dwarfed every single castle in existence in her old world, even the great pyramids and Roman Coliseum could not compare.

"Can- Can I sleep with you again tonight Sansa?" Arya asked uncertainly as she had brushed Nymeria fur. "J-jsut for tonight that is of course."

'Just for tonight' had been for the past two weeks since their arrival.

"Of course," Sansa replied but it occurred to her that Arthur might request her bed and she blushed. Since their first night, he had only requested kisses but not _that_... every time he kissed her she felt a bit funny. The morning after her wedding she had woken up sore and could barely even walk. Wyma Mandery and the other girls from the North had only giggle between heavy blushes at her inability to walk straight the next morning. It was weird, the heating up of her body after that first kiss and her dreaming of that dragon ripping off her arm then devouring her.

Sansa was able to chat some with Mordred about it, but after comparing notes, other than finding it a bit suspected, they could only determine that Arthur had bedded them without their knowledge. She wished she could talk with her other counterparts about it but she had not seen any of the other Shirous since before her wedding. She could not help but feel oddly disappointed at not being able to see the two, even that asshole Archer.

"Did you see that tall woman? I don't think I ever seen anyone bigger!" Arya explained enviously. Sansa could understand her little sister's envy, the girl, despite eating much bigger portions than Bran, was still short. Sansa had drawn upon the knowledge of Shirou to cooked the girl a balance meal but beside a few centimeters the girl hardly grew. In fact the girl's direwolf was beginning to dwarf her.

"Just don't tell that to her face," Sansa reminded her sister. "Some women don't like being reminded of that."

"At least she won't be another of Arthur's wives, seeing as how she's married," Arya said with real relief in her voice before she blushed and looked over to her sister.

"Yes, well, that would be..." Sansa did not know what to describe it as, but what was one more even if the woman was interested in Arthur? Did she really have any room to talk when it had been shown that had she not ended up reborn here, she'd bed two women at the same time?

There was a soft knocked at the door before it was opened and a familiar blonde head peeked in.

"Sansa?"

"Mordred, come in," Sansa invited her friend and sister-wife. That was the only term she came up with. "Done for the day?"

Mordred dressed in pretty Pendragon blue appeared to frown a bit before nodding as she entered and closed the door behind her.

"I had some food sent for us. It looks like my Uncle and Ser Jory are working in conjunction with Arthur to find a better way to mesh the work force. Your Jory seem taken with Captain Gywr's vice-captain Galina," Mordred gossiped but still had a frown on her face.

Sansa had been very curious when Ser Wode had reported that the three thousand men did in fact belong to Arthur, but with one minor correction. Only Two thousand were men, the other thousand were women. A sellsword company comprised of women... that was something she had been surprised to see but Arya delighted in.

When Sansa did meet them, she was intimated by the sheer height of Captain Gywr of the Warrior's Maidens. Sansa always felt she was tall for her age, but this woman put her to shame! She might even be as tall as Smalljon! Then there was the massive sword strapped to her back, only someone like Greatjon could probably wield it. The woman also exuded a dignified air, a stern look was on her face at all times, it was a huge contrast to her vice-captain, a smaller girl who used two short blades that reminded her of an augmented Roman galdius. The girl had dark hair with an easy smile and greeted her and Mordred enthusiastically upon meeting them.

"You know you can get wrinkles from frowning too much right?" Sansa teased her friend but saw the girl's expression did not change for a while now.

"Well, I just can't figure out why that huge bitch hates me," Mordred confided as she poured herself some wine. "From the moment we met, the giantess has been nothing but hostile."

"Perhaps you should tell Arthur she's making you uncomfortable?" Sansa offered. She learned a long time ago that in this world, men hold all the powers. But a cunning woman could rule over the men.

"No," Mordred huffed with a shake of her head. "Arthur seem to really trust her, already delegating her with the job to work together with that other giant friend of his- uh- Sero-something."

"Oh? What is Arthur planning now?" Sansa asked interested in what was going to happen. It seem she would not be lacking excitement for now.

"Arthur... has decided to integrate the two forces," Mordred replied a small smile. "He also offered to release any of the men on our side if they feel uncomfortable working with his forces."

"Did any of them accept?" Sansa eyes widen at her husband's bold move. Jory would stay, her father had tasked him with guarding her after all and Jory had always been completely loyal.

Mordred came over by Taiga and started to stroke the wolf's fur. Taiga liked Mordred so Sansa knew the Princess was a good person. Surprisingly Taiga was submissive to Arthur and listened to his command. Nymeria and Summer did not and were still free spirited but Summer, knew not to bother Arthur. Nymeria would demand Arthur's attention whenever she spotted him.

"Of course not!" Mordred scoffed as if the answer were obvious. "They would be killed by my mother before they could come within sight of Casterly Rock."

"What's to stop them from starting trouble then?" Sansa asked wondering if there would be discord in their household. She hated trouble and would much rather everyone be happy.

"Most likely threat of bodily harm," Mordred answered succinctly before she let out a wide smiled. "However, with Arthur's new forces that means we have sixty five hundred men now!"

Sansa had to whistle making the two direwolves's ears perked up. "That's... a lot."

"Still smaller than what we should have but... if I am understanding this correctly, Arthur will be receiving more Sellswords through the years, Sellswords who have swore fealty to him, That's even talk of giving Pink Maiden more business to make it our own port due to the connection he has in the Free Cities," Mordred's voice contained a trace of pride.

"You seem positively pleased," Sansa commented and saw her sister-wife look away with a blush.

"I-I'm just impressed with our husband that's all," Mordred coughed slightly in her hand signaling she was about to change subjects. "Anyway, I didn't come here to just report this. You said you wanted an assistant blacksmith for your private workshop, right?"

Sansa eyes widened and looked to her friend, not daring to hope.

"It just so happens that my grandfather has sent a few extra smiths too many with the Lannister forces, I say we go poach one," Mordred announced generously as she stood up and motioned for Sansa to join her.

Arya also stood up wanting to follow along.

"Your wolves should stay here though, a smithy is hot, don't want their furs burning off," Mordred warned and Sansa had to agreed. Turning to Taiga she motion for her pet to stay. Arya did the same to her's a moment later.

Smiling, Mordred open the door and saw their personal guards -which were Warrior's Maidens-followed wordlessly behind the two ladies of House Pendragon.

Sansa felt immensely grateful to her friend. The girl had not laughed when Sansa said she wanted to try her hand at blacksmithing. Analyzing all of these weapons and armor she came across, she realized that she knew how to craft those blades.

Unlike Shirou and Archer who can actually create the weapon and copy its age and power by projecting them, she could only physically craft the blade itself but with none of its history or enchantment. However, her crowning achievement and something she had kept to herself was the ability to make Valyrian steel. Their composition was really tough and even Archer had been impressed by its magical attribute. However, forging Valyrian steel was impossible for her, reforging existing ones was easy enough, but making a brand new one required things and abilities she simply does not have.

If Sansa wanted to forge new Valyrian swords she would need dragon fire, and based on what she seen of Harrenhal, dragon fire could melt stone bricks, so she was pretty sure she'd be killed since she was not impervious to fire even with the weaker version of reinforcement she'd been learning. However if she managed to survive that ordeal, Sansa would need to mix a copious amount of dragon's blood to the liquid steel while it was being super heated by the dragon fire. Sansa was pretty sure she'd be dead at that point. After all, she highly doubted she could bring down a dragon if they still existed. The only requirement that Sansa was certain she could do was the magus incantation part as she brought the blade into being.

Lacking both dragon fire and dragon's blood, Sansa hit a dead end with Valyrian steel. However, she _could_ create swords from her world that she copied from Shirou's armory that were similar, known as Damascus steel, she just needed to find the right metal. However knowing how to create them was one thing, actually doing it was a different matter all together. She had tried to forge a broadsword in her workshop but failed miserably. Several other swords she crafted came out wrong because she didn't have the strength and natural endurance a smith spent an entire lifetime cultivating.

To copy with magic was one thing but to bring a new blade into being would require Sansa heart and soul dedicated from a young age if she wanted an excellent weapon and just got an average one. That was why she and Mordred were on their way to look for a smith's assistance. Sansa would need strong hands to strike the blades at parts where her own strength is insufficient. While her parents loved her enough to let her toil away in the kitchen, she's was certain that working in Mikken's workshop was a no, no and had she been married to Joffrey, she would be required to do Queenly duties. No time to experiment.

Arthur, if he truly was THAT Arthur- or Arturia - as Shirou called her, would be more understanding and lax on gender roles. The guards behind them, being women, were proof of that.

"Here we are," Mordred announced as they entered a lower part of the immense castle. It was likely she could put three of Fuyuki City in the castle, such was its size.

Mordred pushed the door open and Sansa found herself immediately assaulted by intense heat followed by the sound of metal pounding on metal. All throughout the massive forge area were dozens of smiths and their apprentices working earnestly. Looking up, she saw the roof was open with air ducts to help circulate the air.

"Bring the water here quick, boy!"

"Where's my damn hammer? I left it right here!"

"Hold it steady, lad, hold it steady!"

"Bugger it all!"

"P-Princess? Lady Sansa?" a guardsman wearing Lannister red asked in surprised. Clearly he had not expected the two ladies of the Castle to be here.

"Sansa here has need of a smith, I aim to find her one," Mordred answered imperiously, daring the guardsman to try and stop her.

"Of course, Your Grace" the Lannister guard bowed immediately and looked at the other that was with him. "You heard her Grace, make sure none of these whoresons try anything with her ladyships!"

Immediately four more guards joined the two Warrior's Maidens that were already in their party.

Here and there blacksmiths and their apprentices stopped when they saw Mordred and her passing. Some even struck their hand by accident, so distracting was Mordred's beauty. After looking down the rows she saw one of the weaponsmiths' and stopped in front of his workshop.

"Mi-miladies," the blacksmith, a man in his forties, bowed right away. "F-finest blades in Westeros, I guarantee it!"

"You made this?" Sansa asked as she analyzed a short sword that was on display. She immediately found its flaw, the blade would break under heavy pressure. "Got any more of your works around?"

The smith laid all of his wares for her to browse, not realizing that she was analyzing his skills. Most of his weapons were serviceable, but they didn't have that refinement that she was looking for, she was going to pour her 'magic' or soul with her crafted blade, she needed a smith that love his blades in the same manner.

"Thank you," Sansa dipped her head in gratitude and moved onto the next stall. And so it was that she, with Mordred and Arya, spent time testing swords from the smithies. Mordred's casual handling of broadswords surprised both their lady-guards and the Lannister's men. From the expression on the Warrior's Maidens, they had not expected the princess to be that skilled.

Arya likewise, was in heaven looking for a companion for Needle.

It was an hour later when they were halfway through the smiths when Sansa noticed a tall man with dark hair setting up shop a bit away from the main workstations. Curious as to why he would separate himself like that, she walked over to his stall.

"Miladies, you don't want to go over there," a nearby smith called out. "He's just a bastard with no master."

Sansa heard the older man's disgust as he said 'bastard' and her ingrained sense of justice immediately kicked in. Glaring at the man she purposefully walked over to the lone smith but upon closer inspection had to correct herself. He was not a man but a young boy in his teens.

"Mi-miladies," the handsome youth bowed clumsily making Arya giggle and Mordred raise an eyebrow in amusement.

The boy's wares were not really impressive visually, a two hand sword that he created was slightly curved where as it should be straight. Narrow where it should be wide, yet there was something in it that called out to Sansa. Placing her hand on it, she analyzed it and widened her eyes in surprise. Whatever the boy lacked in skill, he made up for with immense passion, pouring his entire being into his works.

She needed that skill.

"Him," Sansa pointed to the boy making Mordred and Arya looked at her in surprise.

"Are you sure? His weapons are..." Mordred trailed off having enough kindness to not cut the boy's pride.

"Only because he lack the necessary knowledge, but he is the bone of his swords," Sansa explained to her friend. To think, she could meet such a hidden gem here.

"What's your name?"

"G-Gendry Waters milady," the boy introduced hesitantly.

"Fuck!" Mordred spat out startling Sansa. The blonde looked at the boy. "Tell me, did you originally come from King's Landing?"

"Y-Yes your grace," Gendry answered fearfully.

"Fucking old man," Mordred mumble but noticed the look Sansa was directing her way. "I'll tell you later."

Sansa gave her friend another look to be sure but saw the princess appeared lost in her own thoughts. Looking at the boy she smiled kindly at him.

"I find myself in need of a smith for a special project, would you have any problem following my instruction on smithing?"

The youth looked stunned at the offer but immediately shook his head.

"Good, pack your things, we will be going to a private workshop."

++++Varys+++

Not for the first time, Varys cursed the murderous princess to the depths of the Seven Hells as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. The sun from Essos was as hot as the Dornish dunes, something he though impossible.

"We're almost here Milord," Bronn the capable Sellsword mercenary poked his head inside the canopy and announced.

"I'm not a lord," Varys scoffed, but nodded as he was almost to his destination, Meereen. Peeking his head out he saw the great pyramid structure in the distance. Here he would find salvation and hope. He had been fearfully looking at his back since he fled, afraid that Mordred's daggers would find him.

He and Petyr had underestimated the girl, well poor foolish Petyr paid the price for it. It was one of his little birds that had witnessed the cold murder of the late Master of the Coin. To think the girl would dirty her own hand and kill him in his own whorehouse.

Varys had to shudder at the brutality of the girl and now she sank her claws in Viserys Targaryen. He could have never imagined that young Viserys would grow up to be such a capable warrior. He had a brief chance to meet the grown boy alone but the lack of ambition made him all but worthless. How could he discard his lineage and heritage like that? Luckily he received news from his friend Illyrio Mopatis that made him abandon his post. He would be on the winning side of the war to come. Their victory was all but certain now but that did not mean he wouldn't be able to give the treacherous little lioness a going away present.

Varys had sent Stannis young Edric Storm along with a lineage book, which he had painstakingly preserved, to point out the Queen's treachery. He have also sent word to Lisa Arryn and disclosed to her the true nature of why her lover was killed and for what secret that he had been killed to keep silent. No doubt there would be a slow gradual build up in forces but unfortunately that was the extent of what he could do. When he left, the match between Joffrey and Margery of Highgarden was all but assured. Olenna's ambitions knows no bound and she would overlook treachery to win the throne. However, he was counting on Lord Stark to do the honorable thing and back Stannis, and where the Starks go, the Tullys' would follow.

And when that happens...

"HALT!"

"Trouble, milord," Bronn said through the curtains.

Poking his head out, he noticed his entire sellsword retinue had been surrounded by Unsullied.

"Peace! Peace! I come here as a friend of Maigter Illyrio! Tell him Varys is here, please." Varys rushed out of the canopy and raised his hand in surrender.

The Unsullied soldiers, with their leather armor and large shield and long spear did not make any more advancement. Still he did see one single Unsullied soldier run back to the city probably to report his claim.

After an hour wait, a smaller retinue came out and in the group was Magister Illyrio, a fat heavy set man sitting on a cart with a curtain shade over it. The Unsullied line slowly opened allowing the fat man's escort to get closer. A second look show that the escorts bared the armband of the Golden Company.

Varys couldn't help but smile and wave his hand in greeting. "Well met Magister Illyrio!"

"Varys? I couldn't believe it, why are you here?" Illyrio asked looking at him strangely.

"My life was in imminent danger from the false princess," Varys got off the canopy and approached Illyrio. "I came here to serve the true ruler in any way I can."

"Well, in that case, I say it is good to see you my friend," The fat heavy set man also got off his cart and laughed jovially while clasping his arm.

"Tell me, is it true? Really true?" Varys asked in a hushed whisper.

Illyrio however merely smiled as he invited Varys onto his cart.

"So... about that payment?" Bronn asked looking at Varys expectantly.

"You know, you weren't have bad for a sellsword, how would you like to continue to work for me for a while longer?" Varys asked the mercenary.

Bronn merely spat something to the ground before giving him a level look. "As long as you got the coins, You can have me for as long as you want."

"Excellent, you shall be paid and a bonus too I should imagine," Varys nodded as one of his loyal retainer opened their treasure chest and paid the sellsword.

Bronn took the gold and bit down on it before grinning. "At your service milord."

Varys and Illyrio rode back to the city under guard from the greatest sellsword company in existence.

"So what can you tell me of our new lord 'Pendragon' now?" Illyrio asked curiously and if he noticed the surprise on Varys face he did not show it.

"So his name reached this far already?" Varys asked curiously.

"Oh yes, young Arthur has been quite popular in Volantis and when his true origins came to light, well, that's why the Golden Company have moved you see, to be shown up by someone who discarded his lineage was intolerable to them."

Varys knew that the Blackfyres, who founded the Golden Company, have always considered themselves true dragons despite their fall from grace. So young Viserys declaring to all that the Targaryen line was over was a slap in the face to those that still want to return to said family.

"Well he is Mordred Waters' puppet now," Varys scoffed. "A most unfortunate fate for such an honorable boy."

"Mordred Waters?" Illyrio asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh trust me, that girl is no more Baratheon than I am," Varys replied with a smirk. "And I am not the only one that knows."

Illyrio's smile mirrored Varys' own as they entered the city gates and saw Unsullied standing guard.

"Pity you couldn't find young Viserys after Jon Connington's botched attempt on his life," Varys lamented sadly. "No doubt he could have saved him from the Lion's den. I do not envy his fate."

"Viserys and Daenerys had proven to be most illusive," Illyrio replied regretfully. "Did you see him? What did he look like?"

"The best comparison I could think of is Queen Rhaella," Varys answered after thinking it over as they approached the heart of the city.

"Truly? Not like Rhaegar?" Illyrio asked in surprised.

"No, Rhaegar's opposite except for maybe his skill with the blade," Varys watched on as they pyramid structure loomed closer.

"We'll, we are here, no doubt you'd want to meet him," Illyrio grinned as he got off the cart and moved into the Pyramid which now seemed to be guarded by Golden Company men and not Unsullied.

"The Masters of this city gave him their seat of power?" Varys marveled in amazement.

Illyrio laughed as they entered the main hallway. "The Masters of this city are all dead, my friend."

Varys was surprised when instead of going straight to the center, where he supposed the ruling seat was, they veered left and entered a courtyard where sound of metal hitting metal could be heard. Upon turning the corner, Varys was struck dumb thinking that a dead person walked among them.

"Rhaegar?" He whispered softly.

"Truly? He looked that much like his sire?" Illyrio asked and nodded as if confirming something.

Upon a second look, he could see the man he thought was Rhaegar was actually a youth who could have been Rhaegar when he was younger. His silver hair was long, falling past his shoulders, while his face could be considered handsome and beautiful, accentuated by arresting violet eyes. He was still lanky but was wearing armor of black and red. In his hand was a magnificent sword, judging by the blade it was of Valyrian make, across from him was a man in golden armor dual-wielding two spears, one longer than the other.

**Thack! Thack! Thack!**

The man in golden armor weaved like water against the silver haired youth defend desperately against the attack.

"Aegon..."

"The one and only," Illyrio confirmed as they stayed in the shadows so as to not disturb the losing prince.

"That sword, it's Valyrian, and looks familiar, where did he get it from?" Varys asked as the steel was a mix of black and red rippling in patterns on the blade.

"Oh, I am surprised my friend, did you not see pictures of it in the Red Keep's halls?" Illyrio looked at his face in amusement.

Varys eyes widened as he did recognized the blade. "B-Blackfyre?"

Illyrio's amused look confirmed it for him.

"How? Where?" Varys asked as he looked upon what was thought to be the lost blade of Aegon the Conqueror.

"The same place where he found Balerion."

As if on cue a large black creature the size of a horse entered the courtyard after Aegon had been disarmed by his Golden Company opponent. The creature made as if to stalk the silver haired prince before pouncing on him. Suddenly the Prince whose face had been completely serious let out childish laughter as he playfully rolled around on the ground with the creature.

"That is enough training for today," the golden armored hand took off his helmet to reveal an extremely handsome man with dark hair. Below his left eye was a beauty mark that one could not help but feel accentuated his beauty.

"S-sorry Dia," Aegon said in between chuckles, "It looks Balerion is feeling playful today."

"Is, is that a dragon?!"

His voice must have been too loud as both prince and dragon turned their heads toward him. The dual-wielding man, Dia, however merely looked at him as if he had known Varys had been there the entire time.

"Lord Mopatis, who is that with you?" Aegon's young voice came out full of authority.

"May I present to you, your most loyal servant, Varys, the Master of Whispers," Illyrio bowed and introduced with a flourish.

Suddenly Aegon eyes brightened and his smiles turned friendly. "Ah my savior, it was you who switch me out and spared me from my sister's and mother's fate wasn't it?"

Next to the Prince, the handsome man twirled his spear and hooked it to the harness on his back. His face softened upon hearing the prince's words.

Varys immediately went on bended knee and bowed his head low. "I only wish I could do more your grace, I have failed your family."

"Nonsense!" Aegon handsome face rebutted as he grabbed the Varys by the arm and lifted him up. "If not for you, there would be no more Targaryens... even my uncle has abandoned our family."

"About Prince Viserys..." Varys started slowly but saw an older man with close cropped hair shake his head. He remembered that man, that was Jon Connington.

"I heard about my uncle's denouncement. Pendragon! Bah! " Aegon spat into the ground in disgust. "Has he no dragon's pride?!"

"Your aunt has yet to join him, perhaps she does not feel the same way," Varys offered helpfully and saw Jon Connington stare at him. A long time ago, Jon Connington had decided that in order to make Aegon's transition smoother, he would get rid of Viserys, who no one had heard from for a long time. Because Viserys was older and disappeared for so long, he was afraid the boy had been building himself an army.

In according of the line of succession, Aegon would be king over Viserys, but everyone know that once you attained power it was hard to let go, and Viserys was a Targaryen, and Targaryens were a prideful lot. So Varys's little birds had been able to get a slight lead. The plan was simple, kill Viserys and bring Princess Daenerys to be Aegon's bride.

They had failed on both counts and have lost track of the two in Pentos. Varys could have never imagined they would be right under the Golden Company nose in Volantis. No wonder Illyrio could not find the missing prince. They looked in the local area for children of that age, but to journey on foot all the way to Volantis. What willpower.

"No one know where she is and our spies in Volantis have only vague reports of movements..." Aegon mused as he looked to Jon Connington. "We should throw a feast for Varys, if he's here no doubt he met with misfortune, we shall not be ungracious hosts.

"You are too kind your grace!" Varys said in relief. The young prince was charismatic that much was sure, Varys was nearly sucked into the prince's pace.

"It's the least I can do for my most savior" Aegon wave off Varys praises. "No matter, we shall make due, now, tell me more about my Uncle."

TBC...

AN: And the wheels keep on churning!

Thanks to Deer and Delaney for helping with this chapter! Seriously!

So yeah! Thanks for the enthusiastic support and yep! The gender bent counter went up once more! As now we have a few more plot hooks that introduced as well, that's how this fic rolls! I think this fic speaks for itself so I won't explain anything. It's something different at least!

Thanks for those that gave me such support and left Reviews, you guys are awesome!

To my new readers which seem to be people who read this fic out of boredom but find themselves pleasantly surprised or obviously disgusted. Thanks!

Oh and on Bronn … BRONN NOO! Why! Why did you join Varys side! Well, for those that know Bronn, his answer come down to something very simple. Money. As long as you have money to pay him and since Tyrion was never arrested by Catelyn... well.. why would he ever end up in the imp service?

As for the other major plot point, I'll let you make your own conclusion thought the clues are there ^_^.

And yes there are hints about identities everywhere for Fate fans if you know where to look, for the ASOIAF crowd. Well, you might be pleasantly surprised. Or completely disgusted. Who knows!

On another note... watches the latest Game of Throne... That won't be happening to Sansa. Such bull. At least it's not like that in the books yet...

As for Arturia and Arthur reaction to just married life and family in general. For FSN fan, she banged Morgan Le Fey. Then, she was cool with doing a threesome with Rin and Shirou during the Beserker fight, sure it was life or death, but she was down with it. In UBW good ending, she stuck by Rin and Shirou and is down with that too. All in all, Arthur is the male mentality of Saber/Arturia taken to its logical conclusion who grew up in that time.

Up NEXT: Arthur and Mordred POV

As always C+C welcome, reviews appreciated!


	13. Book 2: Chapter 2

Game of Thrones belong to G.R.R.M

Fate Stay Night belong to Type Moon

Special Thanks to Deer Shifter and Deus Ex Machina for the editing on this chapter!

Help Wanted: This would be Deer final chapter while it is Deus first. :D However I think Paragon might be on board, here's hoping! However, if anyone would like to try their hand at helping me edit! I'll welcome all volunteers!

A Throne Nobody Wants

Book 2: Chapter 2

*** Arthur- Harrenhal ***

"I'm sorry my lord, but you want to do _what_?" Ser Wode asked in incredulity.

Arthur looked around and saw the same shocked expression from his council members, of which there were Jaime, Mordred, Jory Cassel representing Sansa, maester Rhaymon, the reborn Gawain – Gywr, his battle brother- Seroah, and Coliff Feller, head farmer of Harrenhal.

"I want to use the stones from Harrenhal to build a road to our new villages, there is no need to import from the Vale when we have perfectly usable stones here," Arthur repeated himself once more.

"M-my lord, Harrenhal has stood for hundred of years as a landmark, comparable to the great roads of old Valyria in Essos, surely destroying such a monumental structure for mere roads is... wasteful?" Ser Wode repeated.

Arthur nodded to let Ser Wode knew that he was aware of his concern. Arthur quite liked the household knight and had offer him a place on his council as he had always been in service to the old house. More than half of the old retainers of House Whent took up his offer to stay and serve, while the other half returned to the Riverlands to join other Houses. Ser Wode had intended to serve Lord Edmure but Arthur made a better offer.

"I appreciate Harrenhal's history and significance, but that does not change the fact that great houses have beggared themselves trying to maintain its upkeep," Arthur looked at each and every one of his council members who nodded in grudging agreement. The Essosi members were more agreeable.

"Th-they would laugh at us, My Lord," Jory Cassel spoke up. "To maintain Harrenhal is a status symbol few get."

Arthur was well aware that what Ser Jory meant to say was that they would laugh at Sansa because her husband decided to desecrate a wonder of the world. He did not care for that, to save face you would do something crippling to yourself? That was foolishness.

"Then let them," Arthur sternly told everyone in the room. "The only status symbol I care for is a happy, safe populace and a strong army that guards them. Everything else is trivial."

"You forget that Harrenhal was given to Mordred too, to reduce its size to a mere fifth or less? Do you want my niece to be the laughing stock of the Seven Kingdom?" Jaime Lannister, Kingslayer, voiced what Jory could not.

"I am well aware of the potential political fallout but the needs of our people come first," Arthur stood up and pointed out the window. "Let them laugh while we thrive."

"I agree with my Lord Husband," Mordred spoke up, surprising everyone in the room. "Any action he wants to take, I will support wholeheartedly, and I am sure Sansa would agree. Beside I gave no fucks about what people thought before, why should I now?"

"Niece!" Ser Jamie looked at the Princess in shock from the crass language that passed through her lips.

Mordred appeared to not care as she looked at Arthur. "I bet Sansa would love the idea of stone roads, It would make travel easier on the people and you know how much of a bleeding heart she is for the smallfolk."

Arthur had to smile, in the time he had known his third wife... she was very gentle to everyone and afforded them the same respect, be they highborn or peasant. It's a pity that she had been otherwise occupied by her secret project lately. He missed her cooking.

"If that is your will, my lord, then I shall talk to Master Valen right away," Ser Wode resigned in defeat.

"Thank you," Arthur nodded politely and saw that only Jory and Jaime looked uncomfortable. "If there is nothing else, this council is adjourned."

Arthur listened as everyone began to make their way as he stared at a detailed map of the lands he had received on his newly created round table. It was not quite as large as the old one from Camelot but it was a start.

"Arthur?" Gywr or rather, Gawain, hung back to speak with him in private.

"Yes Ga-Gywr?" Arthur replied looking at the taller older beauty. Amazingly enough he had found that Gawain had been born fifteen years before he had drew his first breath in this world. She had only made a trip to Westeros once back in her teens and that was to meet Ser Arthur Dayne to see if the famed knight was...well, Arthur himself.

From what she told him, while the Dornish Knight was magnificent and even flirted with her, Gywr left disappointed. From there Gywr returned to Lorath and lived humbly and gotten married due to an arrangement by her parents. She had gone through with it and given birth to Galina in honor of her best friend in the old world, Galahad. Irony of irony, her child did turn out to be Galahad reborn.

Gywr had told Arthur that though Galahad might have been Lancelot's child in their last life, Galina was hers. Galahad had taken to being a girl a lot easier than Gywr had, but from what Arthur remember of Galahad, he had the purest soul and most optimistic outlook on everything. That innocence endeared Galina among the Lorathian according to Gywr. By the time she was eight she had more marriage proposals than any maiden that was not highborn. People would seek to corrupt innocence, it was human nature. The business at Castle Anthrax where Lancelot had to save Galahad once upon a time was proof of that.

It was Galina however that pointed out that if Gywr and her had been reborn on this world, then other knights could have too, including their king. Gywr had confessed to Arthur that Gawain's dying wish was to serve him once more. So when Galina had pointed that out, Gywr decided to make a sell sword company loyal to her so that they could one day serve him, her husband a rich merchant had supported her and Galina in their endeavors and so here they were.

Unfortunately, while their reunion had been happy, Gywr, who died to the traitor knight's blade in their old life, was convince that his lady wife was _that_ very same Mordred. To Arthur, that was a preposterous notion, he had spent time with her, the princess was so completely the opposite of Mordred that if they ever met, he was certain they would kill each other. Yet Gywr persisted, scrutinizing his lady wife whenever she was alone, so much so that he had to put a stop to it.

His pretty wife had thanked him demurely and done her best to avoid the taller woman. Even right now, Arthur could see Gywr eyeing his wife suspiciously still until she left the room completely.

When they were finally alone, the taller woman spoke.

"Do you expect trouble over the breaking of this castle?" Gywr asked seriously.

"People are in love with the idea of Harrenhal, there'll be some naysayers but the transition for the smallfolk will be the easiest as it benefits them the most," Arthur explained. "Also, this 'green house' project of Sansa's, if it works after the Myrish glassmakers are done, it would let us grow food even in Winter's weather. THAT is why we must have the roads at least as wide as the old Romans ones."

"What is to say this 'Greenhouse' ideas of hers would work, no disrespect to your lady wife of course," Gywr said and immediately looked contrite if she had overstepped her bounds. "You are dedicating whole swathes of coveted lands to a project that might fail."

"Ser Jory has told me she had something similar built in Winterfell, though on a smaller scale," Arthur explained to his best knight. "And more importantly, some of the ideas that Sansa has, while often strange, have worked."

Gywr merely nodded but looked uncomfortably at Arthur again. "Do you know that there are rumors circulating that both of your lady wives have been seen spending a lot of time alone with a bastard blacksmith?"

"I am aware," Arthur replied as he looked out the window. "And I am also aware of what you are hinting at, they are NOT Guinevere and the smith is not Lancelot."

"No, one is Mordred," Gywr retorted and immediately regretted it.

"Gaw- Gywr, I have told you before, she is NOT the traitor, let it go," Arthur commanded not for the first time.

Gywr bowed low. "As you command, majesty."

"I am not King here," Arthur immediately replied making sure no one heard Gywr slip. "Nor do I intend to be."

Anything Gywr might have wanted to say would have to wait another day as his squire entered his room.

"Lord Pendragon!" Bran came in and stared for a moment at the incredibly tall woman. "-uh... Lady Gywr..."

"Squire Bran," Gywr give a soft grin before ruffling the boy head and turning to Arthur. "I'll take my leave now."

Arthur nodded and looked at Bran who training was coming along nicely. "What is it Bran?"

"Uh, I was told to inform you, a Ser Gwynn of House Lake from the Vale requested an audience about a most urgent matter," Bran repeated what he'd been told.

Arthur immediately narrowed his eyes, it has been at least three months since he have seen that man. In fact the man had left right after the wedding, something about receiving a summons from the Vale. He never thought he'd meet that irritating man again really.

"Send him in."

"Yes my lord!" Bran saluted and walked out smartly.

Arthur poured himself some water and was halfway done when the strange man from the Vale entered looking at him with a wide smile as if they were the best of friends.

"Ser Gwynn," Arthur greeted formally which just seem to make the man smile wider. The door closed behind him and to Arthur's surprise the man from the Vale had the audacity to take a seat at the Round Table.

"Not bad, I like what you've done for yourself Arthur," Ser Gwynn spoke in an overly familiar tone and then he kicked his feet up on the table.

"Ser, remove your feet from my table or I will remove your feet from your legs," Arthur threatened as he put his hand on the pommel of his sword. However the man did not seem the least bit intimidated.

"Really now Arthur," Gwynn chuckled in a carefree way. "I used to do this all the time when you and the Round Table knights were out fighting. It was soo boring cooped up in the Camelot you know!"

Arthur did not realize he had released his goblet until it clattered on the ground in front of him. "W-what?"

"Hmm, I thought it was a bit too obvious but you haven't figured it out yet have you?" Gwynn laughed in amazement before he kicked to his feet and started to walk around Arthur, assessing him.

"You look very handsome Arturia, had I been in my old body, I would have thrown myself at you without hesitation."

The man's comment hit Arthur like the mortal blow Mordred had dealt him in his previous life. This attitude, this familiarity, the likable personality mixed in with its irritating nature.

"Y-You can't be -"

"Your lady wife in another life, my dear sweet Arturia," Gwynn, no Guinevere, smiled widely looking at Arthur as he patted his cheek.

"Wh- H- wha- HOW?!" Arthur looked at the woman-turned-man in shock.

Gwynn stopped in mid-pacing, his eyes, where they were once cheerful, took on a haunted look. "I found your body after the battle. I shouldn't have been there but I didn't care. It was my fault everything ended the way it did. Morgan and I took your body to Avalon to lay to rest."

Arthur stared at the man before him, but though he was a man, Arthur had already superimposed the image of his former queen onto him. Her face, her blue eyes, the beautiful mixture of red and gold that had made him envious back then. Wherever she went people would be in awe of her beauty.

"I remember wailing over your body, begging for forgiveness, wishing I could be dead so that I could join you. Morgan was curiously silent the entire time, she just stared at your body as if she couldn't believe you were dead. I tried to kill her but her magics proved too powerful for me."

Arthur was once more surprised, Morgan was with his old body? Did she have a hand in what happened?

"I-is she responsible for... our reincarnation?"

Gwynn shook his head and exhaled. "That I do not know, after we laid you to rest, we went our separate ways. That very night I took my life as a way to atone for my sins..."

"Guinevere..." Arthur put his hand on the man's armored shoulder. "I- I never blamed you or wanted you to die."

"I know, which is what made it worse," Gwynn replied with a sigh as he sat back down at the round table. "Of course, for a time I thought being Gwynn of House Lake and a man was my punishment but no, God was not done yet. He gave me a sister, an untouchable sister."

Arthur heard the wistful tone and saw the soft expression on the man's face, he matched that expression with the woman he once knew and his eyes widened. Guinevere had only ever worn that expression for one man.

"L-Lancelot is here?" Arthur asked finding the room starting to feel stuffy. His best knight has been reborn too? What was going on? Why were so many of his knights, people that he had known, given a second chance? It was then he remember what Gwynn had said. He said a sister.

"Lancelot has been reborn female?!"

"Her name is Lorelei," Gwynn informed Arthur before the man's blue eyes took on a serious expression and looked at him. "And I need your help in saving her, I do not have enough power by myself."

Arthur watch as Gwynn balled his fist in front of him.

"I tried not to get you involved, I really did, but I'd rather die before I let her marry that-that _whoreson_!"

"Who?" Arthur asked his former wife. The way he was incensed now was reminiscence of the way Guinevere use to be when outraged.

"Harrold fucking Hardyng," Gwynn spat vehemently. "The Houses in the Vale are starting to see him as the true lord since Robin Arryn is not expected to live for much longer."

"So what do you want me to do?" Arthur asked looking at Gwynn, his face was serious as one of his knights was in peril.

"Make her your mistress," Gwynn said locking eyes with Arthur to convey his seriousness.

"Wha- WHAT? Are you insane?!" Arthur shouted and immediately two Eagles opened the door, swords drawn.

"My Lord?" Adaresso, his guard asked looking at Gwynn meaningfully.

"It's nothing," Arthur replied waving the men away. "Just a spirited conversation."

Adaresso bowed deeply before exiting closing the heavy oaken door tightly.

Turning to Gwynn again Arthur glared at his former wife. "Again, I have to ask you, are you insane, you realize I already have three wives? Why would I even want to take on one more who's- oh right... USED TO BE A FORMER KNIGHT OF MINE!"

"Because no one else would take her!" Gwynn stood up glaring at Arthur not backing down. "House Lake is a minor noble house. You know how this game is played, even in Britannia but at least under your rule, we could appeal to you! Who do we have here in this world? Fat fucks and whoresons that's who!"

Arthur had to blink at that, it was true he had settle disputes like this justly in Camelot but he didn't really think Guinevere had ever really paid attention.

"Because Harrold is assumed to be the next Lord of the Vale and has his eyes on Lorelei, no one in the Vale would dare court her. Anyone that DOES would have to be in equal standing, but because we are a minor noble house NO ONE of equal standing would be willing to court her, do you see the problem now?"

"Why doesn't he- she, just fight her way out if it is so undesirable?" Arthur asked looking at Gwynn. Lancelot was the most skilled knight he ever had under his command bar none. Gawain's skills translated to his new life, as did Galahad's, Lancelot should be the same.

"She can't, she never picked up a sword in this life," Gwynn thinned his lips and ran his hand through his hair. "She viewed this life of her, her new body, all of it is as a punishment for betraying you. As such, she learned lady's skills not knightly ones."

"He- she gave up the sword?" Arthur asked in shock. Lancelot not honing his skills, could he really be called Lancelot?

"You know how obstinate Lancelot could be when he get something in his head," Gwynn shared a grimace with Arthur. "Her marriage to Harrold is yet another way for her to suffer to atone for her sins."

"So the marriage has been finalized?" Arthur inquired as he pondered this dilemma.

"No, I have bought us a few more weeks with the excuse that I am honor bound to review each proposal before accepting on her behalf," Gwynn sighed and looked at Arthur with pleading eyes.

"You are my last hope Arthur, if you tell her to come to Harrenhal, she would walk her barefoot and naked to be at your side," Gwynn stated seriously. "You and only you, can command her completely. Help me stop it!"

"Ar- are you and him- her, still..." Arthur tried to delicately inquired but saw his gambit failed.

"What?! You think I would fuck my own sister? What kind of sick bas-" Gwynn defended himself but his eyes widened and he looked down at the ground awkwardly. "N-NOT that there is anything wrong with that of course..."

"... Of course," Arthur rubbed his head as Gwynn rubbed his head. "If- IF I am to do this, then we must get Princess Mordred's permission. If Princess Mordred agree, then House Stark would not be offended. I would have to explain myself to Sansa if Princess Mordred's agrees."

Gwynn suddenly smiled very widely. "I think I can convince the Princess of the benefit of such an an alliance. Call her here and let me talk to her in private."

Arthur eyes narrowed and there was a possessive glint to it as he stared at Gwynn and analyzed his words. "Are you trying to seduce my wife?"

"Oh for gods' sakes!" Gwynn cried in exasperation. "That only happened ONE time! It was only ever Lancelot!"

"Very well, I shall call for Mordred."

"Thank you," Gwynn said in relief.

+++ Mordred +++

Mordred Pendragon, Princess of the Seven Realms, looked at the newly crafted armor that Sansa had almost finish putting together with a grin. It was to be a gift for their husband, since Mordred had used her network to spy for the special metal Sansa had required. The armor was very elegant in its simplicity, it was smooth silver, almost polished, and molded to her husband's body shape. That didn't mean she was idle either, Mordred and Arya had found the deepest royal blue cloth, and together stitched together the woolen padding for him to don underneath his armor. The outfit was finished yesterday and Sansa's armor looked to be done in a week's time thanks to Gendry, her 'half brother'. But not really.

Still, in deference to Sansa, Mordred had tried to treat Gendry favorably because she know it would make the Stark girl happy. In fact, since finding out that Mordred did have a bastard 'brother' Sansa had been positively ecstatic, stating that they now have something else in common. If only Sansa knew her real origin.

"Princess Mordred," Brienne, a woman from Tarth that Arthur had knighted a month ago, softly whispered to get her attention.

Mordred looked at the blonde, a comely woman, who had been extremely happy when Arthur took her into his service. Mordred believed that the woman was at least halfway smitten with her husband for not looking down on women who wants to be knights. To show that he was not merely humoring her, he added the woman to his wives' guard detail. The woman thus far had been even more of a hard ass than the sellsword Warrior's Maidens she usually had with her. Mordred quite liked her.

"What is it?" Mordred asked the pale blonde woman. Of course anyone that were to be their guards had been sworn to secrecy regarding what goes on in the blacksmith's.

"Lord Arthur has requested your presence, Princess."

Mordred's eye quirked up, she was just in that council room not too long ago and wondered what he could need her for? Turning to Sansa she got the red-haired girl attention.

"Arthur needs something."

"Okay," Sansa nodded, her attention already turning back to the large young man in the workshop with her. She had changed into a white smock to be more comfortable while working in the smithy with Gendry. Mordred had to smile at that, the boy was eager to please Sansa that's for sure, of course it helped that he was already half in love with her.

Turning back to Brienne she nodded as the two started to make their way back to the Council chamber. Here and there she saw various workers greeted her warmly in passing. She couldn't help but feel giddy, it was never like this in the Red Keep. At that place every smile hid a treasonous plot, every courtesy a calculated blow. Everyone had an agenda and woe be those who go in their way, that's why she had to exert her dominance.

However, under her father's rule- that is Lord Arthur, her husband, the people were genuinely good, the warm smiles were true. It was almost like being back in Camelot again. There were no plots here, she had tried to keep an eye out for those. The people of Harrenhal were a tired and downtrodden lot, if anyone were to plot to get ahead, it would be them. Arthur had been just another lord to them, but the change he instigated were starting to bear fruits. There were on the precipice of a great metamorphosis, she could feel it.

"Princess Mordred to see Lord Arthur," Brienne told the two guards in front of the Council room.

The two stocky men bowed their head to her and pushed the door opened to reveal her husband with another handsome man. Arthur clearly looked uncomfortable upon seeing her while the man gave her a strange analytical gaze.

'_Strange_...'

"Leave us Brienne," Arthur commanded the large woman, who merely blushed before bowing and retreating.

"You summoned me Husband?" Mordred asked looking between the two men.

"This is Gu- err – Lord Gwynn of House Lake," Arthur introduced the man next to him. The man smoothly stepped toward her, grabbed her hand and kissed it softly.

"You are as beautiful as I remember, my lady," the man, Gwynn, silkily addressed her.

Mordred narrowed her eyes at the man. He was clearly trying to charm her, and had she been like her mother or Myrcella, she might have been.

"Ser Lake."

The reddish golden haired man looked to Arthur then flicked his eyes back to her. What was going on?

"W-Wife... I, Ser Gwynn here has brought forth a … proposal for our House," Arthur hesitantly spoke and looked to the knight before her. "In return he asked that I take his sister as a mistress."

Mordred stared at her father in another lifetime in shock. Surely she didn't hear correctly, he was actively going out of his way and asking for another woman? W-was it because she haven't been fulfilling her wifely duties? Other than kisses he have never asked for more but... did that mean he wanted more?

The thought of it sent her mind in a whirl as she looked at Arthur who looked uncomfortable.

"W-why are you asking my permission? You are the Lord of Harrenhal," Mordred pointed out. Then it hit her. It was one thing for him to have two engagements thrust upon him. It was something else completely for him to seek out another. It would dishonor her if she did not give her consent.

"You want me to approve of your latest... interest?"

Arthur looked guiltily away and looked to Gwynn, a man that she only met once in Riverrun. "I... I don't... how do you feel about it my lady?"

Mordred frowned at that, somehow the thought of her fa- Arthur actively pursing another woman struck her as offensive and it diminished him in her eyes. Her father was never one to go for just any pretty face from the little time she spent together. She had see Margery flirting with him, wearing an outfit that all but invited him to fuck the girl yet he never gave her a second glance.

"How many men would House Lake bring to us if they join?" Mordred asked as she comes to term with the new found flaw in her father.

"House Lake have seven hundred men at arms your grace," Ser Gwynn answered instead of Arthur. "True we are a minor house but I think you'd be impressed with our skill."

"There... there is also another matter regarding Lady Lorelei, Princess," Arthur sighed deeply as he said that last part. "She is being courted by Harrold Hardyng of the Vale."

Mordred eyes widen in disbelief. Not only was her father after another girl to sate his lust, but he was going to steal one from the a future Lord Paramount?! Had he no shame! He's as bad as... as... Robert!

She had had enough, a mistress she could tolerate, but one that would make them an enemy of the Vale? That would just cripple their political ambitions. Mordred knew her answer.

"Absolutely n-"

"Princess!" Gwynn interrupted and looked to Arthur. "My Lord, might I have but a private moment with her ladyship, I think I can explain the benefit we'll all gain."

In all her years in Westeros no one had the balls to interrupt Mordred in such a disrespectful manner. Yes, she would like a private word alone with this upstart Knight from a minor house and put him in his place.

"Wife?" Arthur looked at her with those gentle eyes that she was beginning to secretly enjoy. It was genuine concern and care for her. Something she had been denied in her last life.

"A moment alone with Ser Gwynn would be appreciate, husband," Mordred replied before she gave the Vale Knight a hard look.

"I will be outside then," Arthur nodded to her then turned a glare upon Gwynn, the first real sign of hostility she seen from him toward the man.

The sound of Arthur's metal boot hitting the stone as he walked to the door was like the count down to Ser Gwynn's execution in Mordred's mind. She heard the door open and shut with a heavy clang letting her know that she and the upstart were alone.

To her further surprise, the knight boldly strode to the council table and poured himself some water to drink. She had had enough.

"What do you think you can possibly say that would make me approve my husband's pursuit to such a lowly house?" Mordred glared at the man.

"Tell me, Mordred-" Gwynn began in an overly familiar tone, dropping all titles from her name causing the blonde princess to bristle.

"You insol-"

"Does Arturia know she's fucking her own daughter?" Gwynn finished his question.

Mordred felt as if she was stabbed with _Rhongomyniad _all over again. Her eyes stare at Gwynn in shock trying to figure out who this man was...

"Well met SIR Mordred child of Morgan Le Fey," Gwynn raised an eyebrow staring down at her.

"W- who are you?" Mordred whispered before she remember his title... House Lake... "Lancelot?"

"Bwahahaha!" Gwynn chortled in real amusement as he swirl the water in his cup. "Wrong, care to take another guess?"

"Gawain?" Mordred guessed again looking at the man, the golden hair blend in with the red could be Sir Gawain the sun knight.

"Haha!" Gwynn laughed again and shook his head. "Sir Gawain would be the overly large woman that was in here with Arthur when I arrived."

"G-Gywr is Sir Gawain?!" Mordred asked in wonder and realized now why that woman hated her so much. Anyone would hate their killer... it was then she looked up and realized only a few select people knew about the secret of the High King of Britannia. If not Lancelot, if not Gawain, then that could only leave...

"Sir Bedivere..."

"My my Mordred," Gwynn smirked as he walked over to her and cupped her chin lifting it to meet his eyes. "To think someone as smart as you tore Arturia's realm apart is laughable now. You really haven't guess who I was?"

"No one else knew beside us four knights," Mordred found that the strength had left her body. What specter of her past had come for her?

"Not true, after all, Merlin knew," Gwynn pointed out as he began to thumb her cheek softly. "Morgan knew... can you guessed who else that could be close enough to _her_ to know?"

Mordred's eyes ignored the Vale knight's touch but instead focused on the knight feature. Who else could know? The four knights of course, Merlin she had forgotten, Morgan for sure but who else could be close eno-

"Guinevere?!"

Gwynn or should Mordred think Guinevere now, smiled after he finished tracing his thumb on her lips. "It is good to see you recognize your Queen again, Sir Mordred. Though I must say, you have become quite the enchanting beauty. Lovely sun kiss hair, pert kissable lips, gem-like emerald eyes, it's a wonder Arturia haven't figured you out yet."

"You unfaithful _bitch_!" Mordred spat as she slapped the knight's hand away. "YOU brought father's kingdom to ruin!"

"No, that honor goes to you," Gwynn looked a bit surprised by Mordred's strength from the blow. "After all, while I might have been unfaithful and cuckolded Arturia, you were the one that actually gathered that army and tore the entire realm apart. Do not place the sole blame on me."

"...you haven't told him yet, why?" Mordred clench her fist and briefly wonder if she could kill Gwynn fast enough to cover her track. She doubt Arthur would blame her. She could always said Gwynn attacked her. After all if Guinevere reborn had told Arthur about her true origin, the he would have greeted Mordred with a sword not a smile.

"Huh, can I presume, base on your question that Arthur, does not, in fact, know he is fucking his daughter?" Gwynn smirked arrogantly.

"W-we have no blood relations," Mordred defended and looked defiantly at Gwynn.

"Do you think that would matter to Arthur?" Gwynn returned her gaze stolidly. "We both know how unyielding his Majesty could be, don't we?"

Mordred balled her fist tighter before exhaling. "So... judging by the fact that you haven't told him, I gather you want me to approve of this girl?"

"Now there's the girl that ripped her father's kingdom apart!" Gwynn clapped before becoming serious. "Although, I would have you know that it is not just some random wench but Lancelot reborn."

"Wait, Arthur said your sister- Lancelot is YOUR sister?" Mordred looked at the man who sat in the chair heavily. Unable to let the reborn Queen comment pass, she decided to take a jab of her own.

"Did you fuck her yet?"

Gwynn glared at Mordred for the question, he probably knew it was coming but she bet it would still get under his skin.

"A knight of Arthur was one thing, but he has been reborn as my sister, my BABY sister, do you think I would be deprave enough to fuck my own sister regardless of our past?"

"...so you _did_ fucked her?" Mordred smiled as Gwynn got out of his chair and looked livid.

"You realize your father fucked his own sister too right? In both life times I might add," Gwynn rebutted after visibly calming down.

"Half," Mordred corrected before she coughed into her hand. "And he's a Targaryen this time around so it's... acceptable."

"Also, if I am a sister fucker, then you are a daughter who fucks her own father, or is it a mother fucker?" Gwynn grinned viciously as Mordred felt that the reborn Guinevere was right...

"So... why does the _great_ Lancelot need Arthur's help to be 'saved'?" Mordred changed the topic and inwardly fumed at Gwynn victory.

"Because, as I said, Harrold Hardyng wants to marry her, and she won't refuse. You of all people should know what kind of man Harrold is, after all, he courted you once didn't he?" Gwynn spat in disgust when he spoke the Vale heir's name, but he was right. Mordred had been courted by Harrold who had tried for her hand three times and was sent back all three times.

"But why the need to make her a mistress? Lancelot defied Arthur's judgment and killed Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth, Gawain's brothers if you recalled, when he rescued you. Why not do the same for Harrold if the marriage is so undesirable?" Mordred inwardly rejoiced as she had scored a direct victory against the reborn Queen of Camelot as his face looked guilty and he could not meet her eyes.

"That was foul of you to use... them," Gwynn said through clenched teeth. The two most loyal knights of Arthur's cut down not even in battle but simply because they were in the way. Using that incident Mordred was able to get even more followers to rebel against Arthur.

"You were the one that wanted to bring up our past; my hands might be bloodier but yours aren't clean either," Mordred eyes bore into the man now called Gwynn.

"True, but Arthur still has affection for me, whereas you... well who knows how he'd react," Gwynn's rebuttal left Mordred with no path to fight. He had her by the collar and he knew it.

"... so you still haven't answered why the vaunted Sir Lancelot cannot save himself," Mordred conceded as she walked next to the round table and poured herself a cup of water.

"Because, she won't, or rather, she can't," Gwynn sighed and sat down heavily in one of the chair. "She has not picked up a sword since her rebirth."

"Truly?" Mordred was surprised by that, his swordsman's skill was second to none, even her father conceded the title but, she knew her father was the better of the two. "Why not?"

"Lorelei views her rebirth and her current marriage as divine punishment from God for betraying Arthur," Gwynn sighed softly. "You, who use to serve with him, know how obstinate he could be when an idea formed in his head."

"... true." Mordred agreed having remembered Lancelot's dedicated somber nature. Then another though occurred to her. "She's not asking to be saved... You are!"

"Of course, I am her brother in this life after all, it is my duty to protect her. Though this too, is my punishment for my betrayal of Arthur," Gwynn chuckled bitterly. "Not only was I reborn a man, but my love was reborn as my sister, who viewed her entire existence as punishment. It was almost unbearable to watch."

"So if he didn't reacquire his skills, what did he do? Sit around and do needle work all day?" Mordred asked puzzled. Beside skills in arms, there wasn't much else Lancelot could be known for, oh, right, blind loyalty. However seeing Gwynn's expression, Mordred gasped in surprise.

"You- can't be serious!"

"In Camelot, he was the shining example of a knight, being reborn as a woman, he concluded that her atonement began with becoming the ultimate ideal of a highborn lady," Gwynn's tone suggested he did not know weather to laugh or cry.

"Her needlework is now second to none in the Vale, her voice is said to be enchanting, she dance so well that make other girls feel inadequate, even I was never that good... she became the greatest lady in the Vale. The only thing that have ever stopped her being wedded sooner was because of our noble status, too low for the richer lords, too high for the hedge knights."

Mordred could not suppress the amused snort that bubbled from her throat. Try as she might, she could not get rid of the ludicrous imagine of the tall somber knight in a dress doing ladylike things.

"BWAHAHAHAA!"

"It's not funny!"

The door immediately opened and in came Arthur whose eyes immediately darted to Mordred then to Gwynn.

"Is... everything alright here?" there was a warning in Arthur's voice but it was directed at Gwynn, who merely gave an easy smile while Mordred look a bit surprised. W-was he being protective? She suddenly felt warmed and had to fight the blush off her cheeks. It would not do for Guinevere- male or not- to see her this way.

"I- it's fine, a jape from our guest here," Mordred waved her hand over to Gwynn who bowed in a courtly way. "We are almost done finalizing the... details, a few more moments of privacy, husband?"

"As you wish," Arthur nodded his head to Mordred before shooting Gwynn a warning as he exited.

"So does that mean you will agree to let her be Arthur's mistress?" Gwynn asked his tone insistent.

"Why not just ask directly to be his wife, it has more prestige than mistress," Mordred curiously inquired.

"While I know you and can relatively be assured that I could stay your hand against Lorelei, I do not know if Lady Sansa or Daenerys Pendragon would extend to her the same courtesy," Gwynn voiced his fears. If Mordred was to be honest, it was not unfounded. "And of course, even with you on my side, if I pushed for a wife status, it might cause discord in House Pendragon and we all know what happened the last time there was discord in House Pendragon... a mistress is more acceptable."

"A mistress would also have to be soiled for her to be unwanted," Mordred pointed out the flaw in Gwynn plan.

"... I am reasonably sure I could get Arthur drunk enough to ruin the girl at least once, after all, it was I who planned with Merlin to bed Arturia that fateful night you were conceived." Gwynn's face took on a dark frown.

"Well, if _Lorelei _feels that she's serving God's punishment, as you said, then what makes you think Arthur can take her from her intended course?" Mordred looked at the man who she was slowly coming to terms with.

"Because, whether it be Lancelot or Lorelei, if Arthur beckons for her to follow him, she will obey, consequences be damned," Gwynn had a soft expression on his face.

Mordred pursed her lips and nodded. That did sound like Lancelot.

"So here is my proposal: I will keep your secret and even help you maintain your deception, and in return, you back Lorelei's position as Arthur's mistress," Gwynn held out his hand.

Mordred looked at the extended hand and weighed her choices only to find out she had none. The reborn Guinevere had her surrounded.

"Fine, but with one stipulation. You are to serve Arthur, _faithfully_, this time around, your House will be under our banner and Lorelei will be under my direct supervision."

"I will be as _loyal_ to him as you are," Gwynn smiled as Mordred shook his hand in agreement. "Now let's go out there before he thinks one of his knight is fucking his wife again."

Mordred shot Gwynn a dirty look, as if she would ever let come near her in that manner.

Opening the door, they saw that Arthur was standing to a wall to the side while Brienne and the other guards was right down the hallway.

Gwynn looked at Mordred who approached her husband. "Husband, I have listened to Lady Lorelei's plight and I have decided to support your decision."

Arthur face showed shock as he looked at her face searchingly. "Truly? Y- you do not find it shameful of me?"

Mordred patted Arthur's chest and smiled. "I know your nature best of all, you would only ask if it was honorable. I know of Harrold Hardyng and would not wish Lady Lorelei in his grasp. Let some other highborn lady with ambition take the role of his lady wife."

Suddenly Arthur grasped her hand and kissed the back of it affectionately. "Y-you are truly generous my lady. Truly. I... cannot, I have... If there is anything you ever require of me, just ask."

Mordred blushed as red as Sansa's hair before a thought occurred to her. "I do actually have a request."

"Anything," Arthur replied immediately, clear affection in his eyes for her.

"I would like for you to take Lady Gywr to be Lorelei's protective details."

Mordred smiled as she heard Gwynn choking cough in the background.

TBC...

AN:

Whoa! That was fast! Like Jimmy Johns fast! But, If it help you guys to know I had this chapter done quite some time ago and just needed to look for some editors to brush it up , make it shine!

So, Like I have stated before, I am gonna ride this story like Drogo ride Daenerys in Game of Throne, ALLL THE WAY to the finish line! Ahem... okay. Bad example because Drogo met a bad end...

Anyway, for those that say this story is getting serious. My initial goal was to make this crack parody, I failed, so Now i am making this a irony story, after all Why not? I think it gotten to the point where it's just ironic humor now. Yes there will be action and what not. Character interaction etc etc. Many will note that Arthurian legend is pretty fucked up in general and fit right in with Thrones but then again, FSN world is pretty fuck up too so I fit others in there too. It all depends on what I feel is best story wise and still stay somewhat true to the source materials.

Now, onward to my supporters and those that left a review, comment or criticism! I appreciate it all! However if you find my story irreconcilable with your taste than there is nothing I can do and I am sorry you feel that way. For those that continue to stay on board, I thank you!

For those that ask for Lemons, I can't write lemons! If you wanna write lemons though, feel free to write em!

As for this chapter, if you know your FSN/Arthruian Lore along with Game of Throne, you'll get the full effect of the irony, at least I hope so. For those that don't, I spell it out in the plot.

As always, C+C Welcome! Reviews Appreciated!


	14. Book 2: Chapter 3

Game of Thrones belong to G.R.R.M

Fate Stay Night belong to Type Moon

**Special Thanks:** First Deus Ex Machina who did work! Good lord man! Secondly, Everyone welcome Paragon of Awesomeness aboard. This is his first chapter and he helped me iron out the flow quite well. These two amazing editors would rock your damn socks off! Guarantee!

A Throne Nobody Wants

Book 2: Chapter 3

*** Tyrion- King's Landing***

"And of course there is the matter of House Allen encroaching on House Roban's territory Your Grace!"

There was a brush of muttering as the assembled people in the throne room whispered to one another. Seated on the Iron Throne itself was the ever "graceful", King Robert Baratheon -first of his name- and looking completely bored with the two current petitioners.

Tyrion could only sigh as he turned back once more to the parchment detailing the financial situation that his predecessor, Petyr Baelish, had left for him, which had turned out to be a financial boon the likes of which he couldn't even begin to describe. He had initially been daunted but happy that his little Princess, Mordred, had lobbied for his appointment to this post. How Petyr had met his unfortunate end was something that had surprised everyone. It even made him wary of frequenting the local brothels for fear of reprisal.

"Well Ned? You're my Hand, stick your hand in it," King Robert declared in a bored tone as he turned to the Seven Kindoms' newest Hand, Eddard Stark of Winterfell. The Warden of the North had thus far had done an admirable job, and between him, Byrden Tully the Blackfish, and even Tyrion's own recent contributions, the realm was actually starting to look like it was – dare he even think it – getting back on track.

The solemn looking man from the North merely looked at the petitioning noble before he decided on a solution.

"House Allen, you will-"

Tyrion ignored whatever orders the Lord of Winterfell was giving the petitioner's in the form of an offer as he silently crunched the numbers from Petyr's records. As impossible as it seemed, it appeared that the realm was somehow debt-free or rather, it soon would be. Yes, Robert had spent an exorbitant amount of money on tournaments and games, but aside from times of war, there had always been enough money in the treasury to fund a king's frivolities. No, the real reason that so the capitol's coffers had been empty for most of Robert's reign was because Littlefinger, in the Crown's name, had invested in many different types of certain merchants and goods over the years. But if he had put these investments under his name while using the Crown's money, it would have put him under scrutiny to say the very least, but every time Robert threw a tournament, he would use that opportunity to inflate the cost and siphon the gold from the royal treasury away. Really, five thousand gold dragons just to hire a jester troupe? Ridiculous.

Unfortunately, Lord Baelish did not foresee his own death coming as the investments were being returned to the Crown in piecemeal at triple what it was worth. The small amounts, a few hundred dragons here, a thousand there, were paid to the Master of the Coin's office with most of it being written off as expense for the upkeep of the Kingdoms. At first, Tyrion didn't think anything of it but the return investments had not stopped coming in the past six months since he took up office. Eventually hundreds of gold dragons became thousands, thousands became tens of thousand, and tens of thousand became hundreds of thousands, and it still showed no signs of stopping. He had recently done a little more investigation into Littlefinger's holdings and found that almost every one of his private properties and personal expenses had been bought and paid for under the Crown's name to avoid taxes, and then if necessary, Littlefinger would exploit his position as Master of Coin to legally transfer any and all material possessions or properties to him. And since he was now dead, that was yet another couple of hundred thousand dragons worth of property; since he didn't have any living relatives, by law or blood, or a will to be found, all his possessions had now become the property of the Crown.

Most alarming of all, was that the records showed that the return investments wouldn't stop coming for at least another two and a half years from now. This, combined with the taxes they had been collecting and, in two years time, they would be in the clear! Tyrion had considered bringing this matter up with the Small Council after the King finished with Court, but he was smart enough to realize that by playing this right and not advertising their boon, he would be seen as the savior of the realm.

Tyrion smirked, he _really_ did have to thank his little Princess for her generosity. Of course, he was always thankful to her, she was the first of Cersei's children who never viewed him as anything but a man, and her beloved uncle. Though he was embarrassed to admit it even to himself, that he remembered a time when she was his height and had forced him to be her playmate. However, seeing that little prick Joffrey play damsel in distress, dress and all, while Mordred played the hero had all been more than worth it.

"Something amusing to you, Imp?" Brynden Tully, the new Master of Whispers, asked from his seat next to Tyrion.

"Just recalling fond memories of a certain little princess," Tyrion shrugged and looked over to the rest of the royal family and had to suppress a smirk. Cersei finally looked like a Queen again. When they had gotten back from Riverrun, she was as listless as a widow with Jaime gone. In truth he missed his brother too, but he also knew of the two's incestuous relationship. He could only silently raise a toast to his niece for finally separating them.

"Ah... Mordred," Brynden frowned before looking a bit displeased. "I cannot believe she allowed for Harrenhal's... deconstruction."

Hearing about what was happening to the massive castle, Tyrion also put on a matching frown. Harrenhal was an ancient symbol of power, and the lords and ladies of the Seven Kingdoms were all about power, and showing it off. The Tullys were extremely proud of the fact that such a legendary landmark fell under their jurisdiction. Now, it was being taken apart to build roads for the smallfolk and Mordred had approved it. Then, there were rumors of the new Lord Pendragon coveting a mistress. When the Queen herself had sent a raven asking about the validity of this rumor, Mordred hadn't even bothered to dignify the question with a response.

"The girl had always done whatever she liked, I'm sure she had good reasons," Tyrion eventually replied, as he would never badmouth the girl. Lord Pendragon, however, was now on his list for even suggesting it. The man's use of the stones of Harrenhal made sense but such frugality from a lord was frowned upon. He had the money to buy new stones but had chosen not to, which had resulted in many nobles already starting to curse the newly established House of Pendragon, and not all of this was taking place behind closed doors. A house that his dear niece was now a part of. Tyrion owed Arthur for that, and everyone knew a Lannister always paid his debts.

"Hrmmph," Bryden grunted, still displeased before he looked back to the two bickering nobles. "It looks like neither side are happy with Ned's solution."

"Then everyone wins," Tyrion smirked as he too looked at the pair of dissatisfied noble. Their dissatisfaction was understandable though, as Lord Stark had taken neither side over the other, and in fact had all but outright commanded the two houses to cease their hostilities with one another and make peace. "So tell me, you and Lord Stark have been conferring with Lord Stannis and Renly a fair bit recently. What is that all about?"

Brynden's face, which had been relaxed and thus easy to read, suddenly was schooled into a stoic expression. Tyrion had only been trying to divert his attention from Mordred but apparently had stumbled across something. If the three old men (and Renly) wanted to talk to themselves about their glory days then Tyrion could care less, but by the way the Blackfish acted, he could tell that the Master of Whispers was hiding something.

"It is a small issue, one that you needn't worry about," the Blackfish answered with a shrug but his eyes flickered towards the royal family, narrowing as they observed a bored looking Joffrey squirm restlessly in his chair as he tapped his fingers impatiently. "Does the boy not realize he is to be ruler of the realm one day? He should sit up straighter. Look more dignified in front of all these lords and ladies."

Since saying goodbye to his older sister, Joffrey had been like his mother after she had lost Jaime, listless. Why, the Prince didn't even make any cruel jape toward Tyrion like he normally did every time they saw each other! Just how long could the little boy nurse a broken heart and not he realize he was being disrespectful to his new fiancé, the Tyrell girl?

"You'll have to forgive him, he misses his sister."

"Bah, sisters grow up, get married, and go off to live with their new husband all the time." Brynden scoffed before looking at Tommen and Myrcella. "He should focus more on that pretty bride of his. Speaking of which, when's the wedding?"

Tyrion knew the Blackfish was trying to divert his attention from his inquiry earlier, but decided to let the Blackfish go this time. Instead he turned his attention back to the matter he was now responsible for funding: Joffrey's wedding. Simply put, they did not have a lot of money after going through two wedding in the same year, one of which involving a member of royalty, and another involving a family so old and powerful they might as well be royalty. After holding one for Mordred and another for the Stark girl, the treasury had been forced to once more borrow from the Iron Bank of Braavos. Nobody dared quibble over the sum that needed to be borrowed, this was the Princess of the Realm that was being wed, and of course Lady Catelyn Stark had extracted an equal price for her daughter after the dishonour his foolish nephew had heaped upon House Stark.

Having met the woman once, Tyrion thought she was a docile noblewoman. He was wrong. After reviewing the sum that Lady Catelyn spent on her daughter's wedding, he found that it matched that of Mordred's down to the copper. No doubt it was a subtle declaration that her daughter's wedding was no less important than the Princess'.

"Well, looks like they're finally done, so now onto the next…" Brynden sighed as the two bickering nobles bowed to thank the King and left with matching looks of discontent appearing on their faces as soon as they turned their backs. "Another two hours of this torture before we're free..."

"The smallfolk and nobility alike do love to see their rulers, and us, in action," Tyrion replied while shifting once more in his chair to get comfortable. They had to attend court at least twice a week, to uphold the morale of the realm.

"Next!" the Baratheon guard at the door bellowed.

"Greetings, Your Grace," an old looking gentlemen, who wore clothes that showed he was from Storm's End, greeted the king.

Robert sighed and waved his hand. "Well, what do you have to complain about? Out with it!"

"Well Your Grace, it's abou-"

Anything he wanted to say was stop as a commotion made itself known at the entrance, making Tyrion turn to it and widen his eyes in surprise.

"By the Seven! Ser Barristan are you aware that there is a beached whale on the Iron Throne?"

Robert, who had been winking at a noble lady-in-waiting as soon as the petitioner had opened his mouth, suddenly turned his attention to the person that had insulted him, his face reddening in fury. However, just as suddenly as it came, it left as Robert saw who it was. The two younger royal children, who looked like they were going to fall asleep with their half lidded eyes, lit up in happiness as they noticed the visitor.

"Mordred!" Tommen and Myrcella threw decorum to the wind as they got off their seats and rushed toward their sister, who was dressed in lovely Pendragon blue. Behind the girl was several tough looking armoured women that were meaner looking than some of the goldcloaks present.

Tyrion watched as their elder sister easily took them into her arms and gave them deep affectionate hugs but her eyes immediately locked with that of her mother and she smirked, causing the Queen to bristle, though Cersei did look happy to see the girl in her own way.

Robert eyes softened before he took on a furious expression. "Ser Barristan! This girl dares to insult your king! What do you plan on doing about it?"

The Lord Commander of the Kingsguards looked helplessly between the King and the Princess but unfortunately Mordred was not done.

"How amazing! The whale talks- wait... I _know_ that voice... FATHER?!" Mordred mocked surprised caused her two siblings to giggled but hid behind their older sister for protection. By this point the nobles around them looked completely scandalized by what was unfolding before them.

Tyrion could not help but smiled at the scene, the banter between Mordred and Robert had always been a treat to witness. To his own surprise the girl green eyes flicker over to him and gave him a wink before turning back to the King.

"You insolent whelp! You still remember me as you father?!" Robert roared, to anyone else it would sound as if he was angry but Tyrion saw the happiness in the King's eyes as he stood up from his throne and directed his full attention on the insolent girl who had barged into his court. "What are you doing here Mordred Kingbane? Tell your husband he's stuck with you and that I'm not taking you back."

Mordred face reddened briefly before she recomposed herself and pointed at the king. "Hah! You wish I'd come back, my departure made you fat and weak! I thought I told you to take care of yourself! What is with your gut? It's double the size of when I saw you last!"

Tyrion winced as Mordred continued on with her many creative ways to call her father fat, something King Robert was extremely sensitive to. Having had enough, the King got off the dais and walked with purpose over to the blonde girl.

"You mouthy little brat!"

"You worthless oaf!"

"Troublesome bitch!"

"Lazy drunkard!"

Finally as Robert stood in front of the smaller girl, he quickly scooped her up into a hug and showered her face with wet sloppy kisses taking the girl off guard making her and squirm in protest.

"Help! A pig is assaulting me! Brienne!" Mordred wailed much to Robert's delight before he set her down, ignoring her glares at him. A tall, blonde, comely woman handed the girl a cloth with the Pendragon symbol on it to wipe her face with.

"I missed you my little treacherous daughter," Robert said with great affection in his voice as he stood in front of the girl.

To Tyrion surprise, the girl eyes softened and she looked up at the man, smiling softly. "W-Well, I don't dislike kings like you..."

Robert smiled happily then looked around at all the people in the throne room watching a private family moment. "All of you idiots, out! Guards, tell the whiners waiting in line that court is closed for today!"

The goldcloaks nodded before they began to usher the indignant petitioners out of the room leaving only behind the nobles in attendance, the Small council, and the Royal Family, Robert turned back to the Princess and gave her a level look.

"So, why are you here? Has the Targaryen bastard been mistreating you?" Robert tone was dark and full of protective concern.

"Wh- No!" Mordred quickly replied and looked at Robert queerly. "Where would you- I came here today bearing gifts, and you know that his name is Pendragon now."

"Gifts?" Robert asked looking at the smaller blonde girl before he looked at the women behind her. "A few are acceptable, but a bit too muscular for my taste."

"Wha-Not them you whoremonger!" Mordred retorted and punched the king on his arm, earning a chuckle from the man. "They're my personal guard, and I wouldn't allow you to touch them for all the gold in King's Landing!"

Clearing her throat, Mordred beckon a giant of a woman (in Tyrion's view) with close-cropped blonde hair over to her. In her hand was a wrapped bundle in Pendragon colors. Taking a look around Tyrion could see the rest of the court looked on curiously as the Princess unwrapped the gift and held out a scabbard that was simplistic in its design.

Robert looked on curiously and held his hand out for Mordred to give him the blade but the blonde held on to it. Holding it in front of her, she slowly pulled the blade from it's scabbard in front of the King.

Tyrion himself initially thought that Mordred found a Valyrian blade but while the ripple patterns were similar, the blade did not have that Valyrian shine to it, in fact, it look matted and dull.

"A cheap knock off of Valyrian steel?" Robert asked curiously as he also noticed the pattern.

Mordred only smirked and looked to the blonde woman beside her. "Brienne?"

The giant blonde woman took out a blue silk sheet and toss it in the air, a moment later Mordred arm slashed upward with the blade and everyone looked in amazement as the silk sheet was cut cleanly in two.

"What... it's as sharp as Valyrian steel..." Robert marvelled as Mordred held the blade in front of her. She had yet to offer it to the King but instead looked to one of the Kingsguard, Ser Preston Greenfield.

"Ser Preston, perhaps you would be so kind as to match a few sword strokes with me?" Mordred asked with a grin.

Tyrion smirked as he saw the Kingsguard pale and looked to Ser Barristan for assistance, only for the Lord Commander of the Kinguards to motion for Ser Preston to accept Mordred's request. The sharp-faced knight sighed as he unsheathed his sword even while Robert stood aside.

"My Princess," Ser Preston bowed respectfully before he raised his sword in a guard stance. "Please do go easy on me."

"Then don't suck," Mordred responded before her she lunged at the Kingsuard's, immediately putting him on the defensive.

It had been a long time since anyone had seen Mordred fight but if any of them had thought that married life had softened her in the slightest, they were wrong. Even to Tyrion's untrained eyes, his niece was just as good as ever. The knight was desperately parrying her blows, but after another full half a minute Mordred had forced Ser Preston all the way to the dais before she relented and disengaged.

Tyrion watch as beads of sweat began to form on Ser Preston's face from the quick spar. The loud ringing of metal on metal spoke of the heavy blows exchanged between them. Mordred then turned back to her father and handed him the blade.

Robert took the blade and gasped as he began to swing it around with great ease. "It-it's so light!"

"It's not Valyrian steel but it is a good secondary choice," Mordred explained as she looked at where Robert swung the long blade with one hand. "What you are holding is the very first blade of it's kind."

Robert stopped in mid swing and looked at Mordred incredulously. "The first? You mean there's more?"

"A few more," Mordred conceded with a shrug of her shoulders. "The metal to forge it is hard to come by, according to its makers."

"Makers?" Robert immediately looked to the base of the sword and saw the Blacksmith signature symbol. To it's left was water, to it's right was the symbol for ice. "Who made it?"

Mordred looked around the room and made eye contact with everyone before she turned it back to her father. "That, my dear father, is House Pendragon's secret."

Robert looked like he wanted to force the issue but decided against it as he swung the blade around some more.

"Now keep in mind to take care of it as you would any other sword you owned. It's not actual Valyrian steel after all, so it will rust and chip if treated poorly." Mordred warned before she turned to look at Cersei.

"Mordred," Cersei greeted her daughter coolly. Tyrion could tell that she was thinking about Jaime again and the person directly responsible for their separation was in front of her.

"Mother," Mordred greeted with a wide smile. "I gave grandfather the second one, after all, you said I should send him a thank you for his generosity, did you not?"

Tyrion felt that his surprised expression must have matched that of Cersei's. He knew his niece held no love for the lord of Casterly Rock. It was quite a generous gift, no doubt it would cause his father endless pondering trying to figure out Mordred's true motivation for sending it to him. He had to smile at that thought.

Then to everyone surprise Mordred turn to look at Lord Eddard Stark and inclined her head respectfully in his direction. "I sent your son, Robb, the third blade of its kind. I hope I did not overstep any boundaries."

Lord Stark appeared to be taken off guard for a moment before bowing his head. "Your gift is generous indeed and I thank you in my son's place."

However Mordred merely waved off the Lord of Winterfell thanks. "No need, we are kin of a sort now, are we not?"

Lord Stark simply nodded, though somewhat begrudgingly, Tyrion noted. "Yes my Princess."

"Then accept that blade from one kinsmen to another," Mordred reasoned, but there was something hidden behind that kind smile of hers that was threatening to make itself known. Only Tyrion, who had known the girl for years knew that there was some double meaning behind her gesture. Mordred eyes then met that of person who eyes had yet to leave her since she made her presence known.

"Joffrey."

Joffrey, who had been dazed as if seeing a vision, suddenly snapped to attention as if realizing his sister was really in his presence. Tyrion could only sigh at this, two generations of incest in the Lannister family. At least he knew Mordred had the good sense to never fall for the little turd.

"S-sister."

Mordred looked over to the woman she introduced as Brienne who arrived with yet another bundle. "I heard you have been _fairly_ decent and well behaved."

"I-I..." Joffrey blinked, unsure of what to say to his sister.

"So I am giving you this longsword, the 6th of it's kind, as a reward for your progress in becoming a passable human being," Mordred unbundled a one handed longsword and stood face to face with the Crown Prince. "Do not disappoint me, I expect you to follow the code I taught you if you accept this blade."

"O-of course..." Joffrey spoke in a subdued tone. His hand, however, trembled as he reached out and accepted the blade from Mordred.

"Margery," Mordred greeted the Tyrell girl, who simply smiled back at the blonde princess. Finally, Mordred looked over to Tyrion, making him look back at her in disbelief.

"You think I forgot my favourite uncle?"

Tyrion eyes widened before he made a great show of looking around the room. "I don't see Jaime anywhere."

"He's my second favourite uncle, as you well know, that's why he didn't get a blade yet." Mordred replied blithely, making Cersei hand grip the helm of her dress tightly. Her blonde guard took the last bundle, a small one, and handed it to her master.

"Here you are Uncle, a short sword for a short man."

Tyrion would have bristled at the comment had it been from anyone else but he knew Mordred was not like the others and accepted her comment in the spirit it was given, a jape. The girl pulled out a small blade, about three feet in length and handed it to him. Tyrion quickly unsheathed the blade and saw that its tip was slightly wider than the rest of its body.

"It's for stabbing," Mordred explained after he looked at her questionably. "Aim for their calves and ankles."

To test out the blade, Tyrion quickly stabbed downwards into his chair and saw it go through the thick wood easily. "I humbly thank you for the gift, beloved niece. When do you think Jaime will get one?"

"When I feel he deserves such a blade," Mordred replied, and for some petty reason, Tyrion felt happy that he was gifted with something that Jaime didn't already have. It was unworthy of him considering how Jaime had been the only member of his family who had been kind to him while growing up, but at the same time he had always been passed over by everyone in favour of his brother. And now, for once, he had something his brother didn't.

"So, where is my brother?" Tyrion asked, searching her party for his oldest sibling.

"It's unfortunate that he couldn't make the trip," Mordred answered lightly as she turned to her party.

"I... see," Tyrion tried to hide the smirk from his lips. Mordred's twinkling eyes let him know exactly why his brother was not here. "He must be disappointed to not be able to accompanied you, I am sure he misses his family very much."

Tyrion could feel Cersei bristle at his statement and no doubt would be paying for it later but any opportunity for a jab at Cersei was simply too good to pass up.

"Oh I wouldn't worry about that," Mordred replied lightly, her green eyes twinkling. "He has a lot to keep him occupied."

"Like what?" Cersei spoke up glaring at her daughter with half hostile eyes.

"He's with my husband on patrol by the Westerland borders. My husband is intent on rooting out every last bandit camp on our western frontier." Mordred declared proudly.

That statement by her made some of the higher noble whispered in surprised. Most nobles tolerate bandits as they were simply too much of a hassle to attempt to root out. If you crush a bandit camp, they'll just start again somewhere else. They were like rats, never ending. What the new Lord Pendragon was trying to do would most likely be seen as foolish at best.

Mordred ignored the whispered and ruffled her uncle's head affectionately, something that irked Tyrion, but he let it slide as she turned her attention back to the king.

"So, you like the sword, Father?" Mordred asked lightly as the King ceased trying to duel with his Kingsguards, wanting to test the blade.

"Aye, it's a great gift," Robert smiled as he looked at the blade before her look to his friend Eddard Stark. "I'll have to test my new blade against your _Ice_ now."

The Hand simply nodded to his friend but there was a fond look to it, something usually only shared between close brothers.

"So Mordred," Robert began looking at the girl. "You're obviously not pregnant, when should I be expecting my grandchild?"

Mordred face stilled before it redden prettily even as Joffrey's own twisted into an ugly expression.

"Hah! As shy as a maiden on her wedding night still?!" Robert booming laughter echo the hall. "Sometimes I doubt you're my daughter with how you react to even the mention of fucking! No Baratheon ever shied away from the task, I'll tell you that much!"

"Robert!" Cersei reprimanded with a harsh glare shot his way, but there some inkling of fear in there too.

Tyrion smiled but from the corner of his eyes, he saw Lord Stark's stunned expression before the man shared a conspiratorial look with Lord Brynden Tully. He would have to keep an eye on those two, but for now, he shall enjoy the company of his favorite niece.

+++ Lorelei- The Vale+++

"Bravo! Bravo!" Harrold Hardyng clapped as he stood up in House Lake guest room, along with his men.

"What a lovely voice!"

"Aye, as if the Maiden herself sang it!"

Lorelei curtsied gracefully from the ovation of her potential husband-to-be, who was a large man, larger than even her old body in Britannia and bulkier than Sir Kay, Arturia's cousin. As much as Gwynn protested it, there was simply no way House Lake could deny Harrold's overture's any longer.

But such was the price that was to be paid for her penance, and Lorelei would not avoid her destined path. The handsome future Lord of the Vale walked over to her and thumbed the dark locks of her hair, smiling down at her.

"Seeing as how we will be wed as soon as your brother returns, surely you would not deny me a kiss?" Harrold lusty eyes stared into her own. Nearby, she sensed the knights of her household tense at the Heir of the Vale's bold actions.

Lorelei gently pushed Harrold's hand away and shook her head. "Until such a time that my brother declares I am to be your bride, I am afraid proper decorum must be maintained."

"My Lady," Harrold choked out, his voice barely concealed his desire now. "You are making this harder on me than you know, very _hard_."

Lorelei nearly rolled her eyes at Harrold's blatant innuendo. Having been a man of a similar nature in her previous life, she knew all too well how to counter his advances. "I am sure a _great_ knight like yourself can endure any trials."

"True, though that doesn't mean I enjoy them. I swear, your brother cannot return soon enough," the Heir of House Arryn answered with a frustrated sigh as he walked back to his seat across the table from her, along with his men.

As Lorelei was taught, she motioned for the serving girls to continue bringing out their meal. Lord Hardyng had appeared a week after Gwynn had left. No doubt hoping to take advantage of her brother's absence and hoping for a quick tryst. She was not unfamiliar with his methods, having employed them herself. Such was divine retribution that she had to endure being on the receiving end of such a persistent courtship.

"Did I tell you milady, that time Wallace and I routed a large force of bandits at the Gate of the Moon?" Harrold began to once more to tell tales of his deeds, no doubt hoping to move her with his bravery.

As Lorelei had been taught by her late mother, she smiled politely and gasped at the appropriate parts. Yet, what Harrold have face was trivial to what she had witness herself and from afar. Bandits at the Moon Gates? A hundred on the King's Road? Compare to the Saxon Army's siege of Londinium or fighting the Caledonians behind Harridan walls against ten thousand of their screaming hordes, a hundred cutthroats was nothing.

Of course, thoughts of her old life always brought thoughts of her King to the forefront. Her majestic, magnificent King. She could be truthful with herself now, no more lies and deceit, she was in love with Arturia. Guinevere was also in love with Arturia, so the two share loved for their King turned into mutual attraction that was- in a twisted way- a way to relieve the frustration. Both could never touch their king, Lancelot because he was Arturia's first knight, and Guinevere because Arturia was a woman. So they comforted each other and understood that it was not a deeper love.

_'My King... Are you happy now?'_

Lorelei smiled once more at Harrold's "rousing" tale of him beheading the bandit leader. Try facing down a Danish Warlord one on one. Horsa had bested even her when she was Lancelot, but not Arturia, no, Arturia drove him and his Sea Wolves back into the ocean. _That_ was a real warrior.

_'Arturia...'_

Like Gwynn, when she heard of the declaration of House Pendragon, she had begged her sister to confirm for her if that was really Arthur, to see if this man claiming to be Arthur Pendragon was REALLY Arthur Pendragon. Like Gwynn, she had presumed that Arthur Dayne had been her liege reborn and that he met a tragic fate once more over love, in this new life. The Dragon Dynasty once again falling to a rebel.

But after the announcement of the last Targaryen and the revival of House Pendragon, she had to verify if he was her king, reborn as she was. Gwynn, always bending to her every whim, went to confirm it for her. Lorelei knew it must have been difficult for Gwynn, to meet the eye of the man you betrayed, but he had confirmed that it was Arthur himself and that yes, he was happy.

Though they both entertained thoughts of revealing who they were to Arthur, in the end they had both decided not to bother their King. For they were both certain theirs would be the last face he would ever want to see, in any life. So with that in mind they left well enough alone.

After Gwynn returned, Lorelei would be wedded to Lord Hardyng, and since he was to one day be Lord of the Vale, perhaps Lorelei could help Arthur in Harrenhal by pushing for an alliance between the two to help his fledgling nation grow stronger. Any more musing on her future was halted when the captain of House Lake's guard strode into the room and looked at her with a slightly agitated look.

"Ser Roy?" Lorelei asked upon seeing his expression.

"Your brother returns, my lady," Ser Roy, a large man in his forties gazed at her with fondness. "But he does not return alone."

"Oh? Who is he with?" Lorelei asked perplexed. Did her brother find her another suitor after all? She glanced over to see Harrold trying his hardest to pretend not to be listening.

"I... I think they are flying House Pendragon's colors," the older man said with a puzzled expression.

Lorelei eyes widened at the announcement and decided she had to see for herself. Getting up out of her seat, she went to their Courtyard just as the riders entered. At the head of the procession was her brother Gwynn with their House colors, but behind them, fluttering proudly in the winds, were banner she thought she'd never see again.

"Pendragon..." she whispered softly as her gaze fell to the riders and immediately realized one thing. Except for her brother's escort, the Pendragon riders were mostly women.

Harrold had made his way out of a few second after her and eyes widen in surprise at the women in armor but more than that he was looking apprehensively at Gwynn.

"Lord Lake, I am glad to see you've returned safely," Harrold greeted Gwynn with a false smile.

"Lord Hardyng, what are you doing here?" Gwynn stormy blue eyes narrowed dangerously at the Heir of the Vale.

"I am merely getting acquainted with my soon-to-be wife," the bulky blonde man answered with a disarming smile.

Gwynn eyes widened in alarm and looked immediately to her but Lorelei shook her head at the unasked question. No, Harrold did not take advantage of her in any way. It was then that a person that she thought was the only man in the Pendragon group took off his helmet to revealed that he was in fact, a she. That woman was huge!

"This is Ser Gywr a knight of House Pendragon," Gwynn introduced the giantess to a stunned looking Harrold and Lakemen.

"A _w__oman_ knight?" one of Harrold's men scoffed but fell silent as the woman in question got off her horse and stood imposingly over the naysayer. She was taller than any of the men save Harrold. Her gaze sweep across the yard as if taking their measure before her intense eyes fell on Lorelei herself.

Lorelei tried to politely inclined her head but was held by the woman intense scrutinizing looks. There was some deeper meaning behind the giantess's look, she knew, but she failed to decipher it as Gwynn also dismounted and walked over to Lord Hardyng.

"Thank you for staying here to protect my sister while I was away," Gwynn acknowledge and saw Harrold smiling proudly.

"A true knight could do no less!"

"Lord Hardyng, I am sorry to inform you that I have accepted another suitor on Lorelei's behalf," Gwynn news stunned all the people of House Lake but none more so than Harrold Hardyng.

"W-What?! Who? Who would dare court her under my nose?!" Harrold face twisted into an ugly expression as he demanded an answer from the Lord of House Lake.

"Who it is, is none of your concern, but Lord Pendragon have been kind enough to provide her an escort to her new place of residence," Gwynn replied impassively, not caring that Harrold looked ready to attack him. "If there is nothing else, you may take your leave now, my lord."

Harrold opened his mouth to yelled but one of his knights, an older man with greying black hair, grabbed him by his shoulder and shook his head. Just like that, the Heir to the Vale swallowed any harsh words he might have had and shot Gwynn a final angry look before departing with his retinue.

Ser Roy, however, was turning pale as he looked to the master of their house in concern. "Lord Gwynn, forgive me for any offence, but what other lord would be willing to take Lady Lorelei's hand in marriage?"

After all, while the lady of House Lake was a woman of exceptional grace and beauty, when a lord married, it was for power or wealth. The only reason that Lord Hardyng had wanted Lorelei's hand in marriage was that he was all but guaranteed to be the new Lord of the Vale, so in his mind his position was secure enough for him to be able to select a wife of his own choosing. And while the lady of House Lake had virtually nothing to offer in terms of political gain, when it came down to how desirable a woman was, Lady Lorelei put all other ladies of the Vale to shame.

"I never said anything about a marriage," Gwynn replied grimly and looked at his sister with a contrite expression.

"N-Not marriage? My lord, forgive me, but I must ask you as to what is going through your mind right now?!" Roy shouted as he glared angrily at his lord. Lorelei could not help but be touched by his over-protectiveness, really, all of the knights of her household had always been very fond of her. "Have you even know the kind of retribution Lord Hardyng could bring upon us all for this slight to his honor?!"

"I have already given up all of House Lake's land to Lady Lysa. as of right now, none of us are bannermen of House Arryn," Gwynn spoke up stunning everyone. "You will find that I have given you ample pay for your service and for those that wish to stay in the Vale with their family."

"W-What?!" Roy half shouted as he looked incredulously at Gwynn. "You-You-! Wh-what house would take us in without any lands to call our own?!"

"House Pendragon," Gwynn replied and made all the knights eyes widen in surprised. "Lord Pendragon only asked that we serve him faithfully and is willing to recoup the land we lost with his own."

Lorelei was sure that Roy was thinking of the difference between the fertile lands around Harrenhal and the tough, rocky lands in the Vale. It was an even better trade-off when one thought about it. But what was now more disconcerting to her was that Gwynn had pledged their house to Arthur's, which meant that someone close to Arthur had shown an interest in her and he was willing to back her mysterious suitor.

"No." Lorelei surprised herself when she spoke up. "Tying ourselves to the Vale would be better. Safer. We do not want to cause trouble for Lord Pendragon."

The woman knight, Gywr eyes widened in surprise as she stared at her. "Even if my lord is willing to endure such trouble?"

"Even then," Lorelei replied firmly to the knight of House Pendragon. She gave the woman a respectful bow and envied her the opportunity to serve Arthur, something she longed for but knew would never be. "Send your lord our thanks, but Harrold Hardyng shall be my suitor."

"No." Gwynn glared at his sister. "You will not be marrying him."

"I cannot not be selfish, brother, nor should you," Lorelei looked at Gwynn in disappointment. How could he even think about bringing trouble onto Arthur's doorstep!

Gwynn looked at the lady knight with a pleading expression before the giant of a woman nodded. Taking out a rolled up parchment from her gauntlet, Gywr walked over Lorelei and handed the missive to her.

Lorelei eyes widen as she looked at the sealed of House Pendragon on the rolled paper. Looking up at Gwynn, she realized that her brother had definitely divulged their identity to Arthur. What did the letter contain? Would it rebuke her? Would it contain forgiveness she did not deserve? Would it reveal to her the type of retribution that her King wanted to extract from her? Reverently, she broke the seal and unrolled the letter and read its contents. A soft gasp escaped her lips as she realized it was in Latin and written in a hand she was all too familiar with.

_'Lorelei,_

_I need you by my side, old friend. Come to Harrenhal immediately._

_-Arthur Pendragon_

_'Old friend…'_

"My lady?" Ser Roy's worried tone made her look up, and to her surprise, she found her vision to be blurry. Touching her cheek, she found it was wet and thumbed the tears in fascination. She was crying?

"Are you alright, my lady?" Ser Roy asked as he glared daggers at Gwynn and Gywr.

"I- I'm fine," Lorelei whispered softly before she turned to her handmaiden. "Gather my things, I will be departing for Harrenhal at once."

Ser Roy's eyes widen in surprised at her change of heart but quickly nodded. "Then it appears that I will be escorting you there, along with my family."

"And I, my lady!"

"I as well!"

All of the knights, down the kitchen staffs, swore that they would follow the two scions of House Lake to Harrenhal.

In the midst of everyone excitingly chatting about their new home, Ser Gywr walked up to Lorelei and stared down at her with an unreadable expression.

"I was charged by Lord Pendragon with your safety," Gywr told Lorelei before she lean in closer to her ears. "But be warned: betray Arthur again, Lancelot, and I will make certain you wish you had stayed dead."

Lorelei eyes widen before she looked at Gywr in surprised. "Who?"

"You killed my brothers in your mission to save Guinevere," Gywr replied making Lorelei gasp as fresh shame washed over her. She knew exactly who this was.

"Gawain..."

"We have much to talk about, '_Lorelei_,'" Gawain reborn told her as the woman walked away.

+++Varys- Meereen+++

Varys was watching young Aegon desperately tried to fend off the duel spear wielder once more in the courtyard when a Golden Company man rushed in, interrupting his practice session with the Lord Commander of Aegon's Kingsguard, Dia. Whatever was said, it made Aegon eyes light up as he walked over to toward him.

"He's back!" Aegon cried out excitedly as he looked at the door way. "Varys, you simply must meet my most trusted adviser!"

Varys bowed to the excited prince as he motioned for Bronn to follow him. The sellsword walked behind him into the main throne room where a handsome man in his late thirties was waiting by the throne dais. The man had long white hair with violet eyes, a beardless face and was leaning against a staff longer than the length of his body. His face, which had been stern while talking to Jon Connington, the future Hand, twisted into a smile upon seeing Aegon.

"Morgan!" Aegon smiled brightly as he clasped the man's right arm in joy.

"Your Majesty," Morgan replied making Varys frown at the mode of address. Majesty?

"I think we should keep Your Grace then switch over to Your Majesty once we conquer Westeros," Aegon said after looking thoughtful for a few moments.

"As you say, Your Grace," the man, Morgan bowed his head but Aegon immediately waved it away.

"How many time do I have to remind you? You shall always call me by my name," Aegon spoke up firmly. Before he turned to look at Varys. "Morgan I want you to meet my savior and benefactor: Varys, the Spider."

Morgan turned his eyes upon him making him feel as if he was naked before the predator until the man smiled charmingly.

"I have heard much about you, former Master of Whispers. Your service to Aegon will not be forgotten."

"I only did what anyone loyal to the true King of Westeros would do," Varys spoke up. It never hurt to profess loyalty where Tagaryens are concerned. However now it was time to probe a few questions of his own.

"In any event, it is a pleasure to meet you, Morgan, though I cannot help but wonder if you are related to the Targaryen in some way. Perhaps a Blackfyre?"

Morgan immediately laughed out loud in mirth. "Oh my, no. I was born in the shattered lands of Old Valyria, where silver hair and violet eyes are quite common."

"Ah," Varys commented before he turned to see the black dragon rumble into the room and begin licking Morgan's face causing the man to smile.

"My, my, Balerion certainly have grown since I've been gone!" Morgan chuckled as he pat the dragon's snout.

"It is all thanks to you and your magic," Aegon fondly stroked his dragon with a smile. However that comment startled Varys.

"I'm sorry, but did you say magic?" Varys ventured and saw Jon Connington, Lord Dia, and His Grace Aegon IV, looking at him with amusement.

"Oh yes, my friend, magic is very VERY real," Aegon grinned as he looked to Lord Morgan proudly. "Thanks to Morgan here, he was able to make Balerion grow at twice his normal rate, of course he consumes twice the amount of food as well but... I say it is more than worth it."

"You give me too much credit," Morgan stated before he looked over to Jon Connington then back at Varys.

"Lord Varys, perhaps it is best if you and Bronn go and inspect the Unsullied troops for a bit?" Connington tactfully ventured. Varys understood and was about to leave but it was Aegon who stopped him.

"No, Varys stays, he is loyal to my rule and has contributed much to my reign. He belongs in our Small Council," Aegon spoke up in defense of his savior, having recognized what had nearly happened thanks to Morgan's lessons.

"Well, if that is how you feel, then none of us will gainsay it," Morgan replied before he turned to look at Varys with half lidded eyes. "However, understand that if any you betray King Aegon's trust, you will suffer the greatest agony imaginable, do I make myself clear?"

"Of course," Varys and the others nodded before the eunuch turned to his sellsword. "Bronn, please keep yourself entertained for the rest of the day."

The mercenary merely shrugged his shoulders before he left the main hall. Varys saw that his move was the correct one if Morgan's approving look was any indication.

Once they were alone, Morgan turned his attention back to Varys and gave a half smile. "Well, I must say it is finally good to put a face to the infamous Spider I heard so much about. From what I understand, your information has always been accurate and concise, a trait I greatly admire."

Varys bowed his head once again and thanked the man, who was obviously very close to His Grace, in fact profusely so. However he did not miss seeing Jon Connington's look of jealousy. It appeared Lord Connington had a weakness for Valyrian men.

"Now, onto business then," Jon Connington spoke up loudly, taking Morgan's attention back on him.

"Hmm? Oh right, business it is," Morgan nodded before he turned to look at Aegon. "I am pleased to inform you that when we march for Westeros, Khal Drogo and his horde of twenty thousand Dothraki warriors will be more than willing to join us. There is one small stipulation, however, that I agreed to on your behalf, Your Grace."

"What did you promise to the Dothraki Warlord?" Aegon asked curiously as he walked up to the throne of Meereen and sat on it.

"Daenerys Targaryen for his wife, and as much plunder as his men could take," Morgan replied, making Jon Connington and Lord Dia look at him in alarm. "Of course, they would only loot the traitor lands, those that are loyal to us will be spared."

Aegon appeared to be in deep thought before he looked to Jon Connington, the man taking his cue step forward and spoke to Morgan. "Why are we giving them so much? Daenerys should be Aegon's wife."

Morgan suddenly smiled. "And she would be once we kill Viserys, but I agreed to it for now because we need the men and they are useful tools."

"You don't plan on honoring the deal?" Aegon looked at the silvery hair Valyrian in shock.

"I have every intention of honoring the deal, Aegon. But, if Viserys and Daenerys spawn a girl, you can raise her to be your bride instead, thus keeping the Targaryen line pure. Another thing I factor in is that Khal Drogo would most likely die before all is said and done, after all he was defeated by your Uncle once before, who's to say it won't happen again?" Morgan answered casually as he walked over to a nearby table and pour himself some wine.

"I shall leave it to you then, for you have yet to lead me astray," Aegon replied after mulling over Morgan's scheme. "I am surprised he did not request to be the one to kill dear old Uncle Arthur."

Suddenly Morgan eyes glared at the young king to be making the boy quail. "Do not- EVER- call him by that name! Do not even call him Pendragon! Understand me?!"

Aegon eyes widen in fear but nodded. "S-sorry Morgan, I forgot..."

"Never forget it again. Also remember that Mordred is mine," Morgan said darkly as he drank deeply from his cup. "I will teach her the price of treachery and betrayal, to dare erect House Pendragon..."

Varys eyes widen as Morgan crushed the golden goblet in his hand before he seemed to come back to his senses.

"Ah, forgive me Aegon, I spoke out of turn," Morgan spoke softly, his tone apologetic as he looked to Aegon beseechingly. The young king-to-be nodded and smiled back.

"Think nothing of it, your anger at the traitors do you credit," Aegon praised but Varys felt that something was incredibly off with Morgan's reaction, his years of experience as the Master of Whispers told him that much.

"You are a kind and benevolent King, Aegon. The Targaryen line will reach untold heights of glory under your rule," Morgan smiled as he toasted the young King. "However, in order to help you achieve that, I want to do something for you, my King."

"What is it?"

"I want to make you stronger then you are, faster, better," Morgan replied as he beckoned for Balerion to come to over to him. The obsidian dragon lumbered his way and let the silvery hair man pet him softly.

"I am training as best as I can..." Aegon looked embarrassed at his progress, which to Varys was stunning, but Lord Dia had always proven to be his superior in that field.

"I know, but there is a way to enhance your abilities. Understand though that this method does involve magic and… a simple exchange," Morgan smiled as he looked at Aegon while petting the dragon.

"How?" Aegon asked warily. Morgan's answer stunned the room.

"I want to link your soul to Balerion's."

TBC

Up Next: Sansa

AN: WOW... The wheels, they keep turning! So yeah, first off, thanks and welcome aboard my two newest editors. Secondly, thanks to all the previous editors that helped me get up to this point. I shit you not that this fic would be fucking horrible without any editorial help. So thanks you Deus and Paragon!

Secondly, Thanks to all the reviewers in the last chapter. Holy shit I am at 554 Reviews and Might be in the 600 + club by the time this chapter is over. You guys ROCK!

Now on to this story itself! You noticed I change the heading and we are in fact in BOOK 2 now. I figure doing that would give the readers a break point before they reload their mind instead of thinking of it as one continuous story. Nope, I guess Book 1 had a Beginning, Middle and End. So Book 2 will be the same yet contribute to the overall arc.

As for what happened in the chapter itself, well, it's self explanatory :D Although I will say! Fear not, only two more Fate Character left! Only TWO! But yes, I kind of want to point out what i did but decided, I am gonna be a writer that let the readers decide what they take away from it. Just that if you are familiar with fate, arthurian legend and Game of thrones, you see what I am doing. And if I feel that I need to flesh out any of your inquiries, I will give ya a PM :D

Good luck on that scavenger hunt and piecing it all together :D

I love to hear you guys comments and reviews on the story itself and appreciate the time you guys take out to do it :) Thanks again for reading and as always.

C+C Welcome, Reviews Appreciated


	15. Book 2: Chapter 4

Game of Thrones belong to G.R.R.M

Fate Stay Night belong to Type Moon

Special Thanks: Deus~~~!He's clean this bad boy up and the Paragon of AWESOMENESS, who pretty much sat on this fic until it was perfect! PERFECT! Thanks guys!

A Throne Nobody Wants

Book 2: Chapter 4

*** Sansa – Harrenhal***

Sansa locked blade once again with Vice Captain Galina of the Warrior Maidens. Staggering under the force of the attack, she used all of her strength and forced the girl to disengage as she took a few step back in retreat. The pretty sandy-brown haired girl merely smiled in acknowledgement as she twirled the gladius in her hand and looked barely winded, a far cry from how Sansa herself felt. The Vice-Captain was dressed in light brown leather armor in contrast to the loose fitting tunic and pants that Sansa wore.

"Go Sansa! Avenge House Stark's honor!" Arya cheered earnestly from the crowd. Behind Arya were two other tall Warrior Maidens standing guard protectively. The girl's brown clothes were ripped in places and riddled with dirt smudges. There were even some bruises forming up along her arm.

Twirling the two short scimitars swords that Sansa wielded and had personally forged; she charged at the woman that was four year her senior and shouted her house's battle cry.

"For Winterfell!"

"For House Pendragon!" Galina roared back but there was a beaming smile on her face as the two engaged in once more in combat.

Sansa had always prided herself on being a good fighter, especially for a girl living in Westeros, and with the pointers Archer and Shirou had been giving her as of late she'd gotten even better. Her alternate selves had shown her the refined style they both used when wielding the Noble Phantasms Kanshou and Bakuya, which allowed them to control the flow of a battle by always being able to perfectly counter an opponent's move. After taking hold of the married blades, Sansa found that they and the style that her alternate selves had suggested suited her quite well. However when fighting in the real world, instead of going into battle wielding renowned weapons of legend, Sansa had to make do with what could be made from Harrenhal's forge.

And unfortunately for Sansa, understanding the mechanics of a particular sword style was a long ways of from actually being able to do it, as was the case with any fighting style. Sansa found herself hard pressed to get a single strike in edge wise against Galina, which frustrated her to no end. She had defeated several of the WarriorMaidens already and had even gotten used to Mordred's heavy strikes. So how was it she found herself unable to keep up with Galina's own attacks despite going all out?!

**Clank! Clank! Clank!**

The furious exchange of steel echoed once more in the Courtyard as men who had been training took a break to watch them fight.

Sansa stepped back quickly to avoid a slash aimed at her face but lunged forward a moment later to hammer down on an opening she saw, only to find the strike blocked by Galina's blade. A moment later, Sansa saw stars as Galina head butted her. Blinded and dazed as she was, Sansa was still able to drop down to the ground and do a quick leg sweep, and she was rewarded for her tenacity when she heard the Vice-Captain of the Warrior Maidens yelp in surprised as she was brought down to earth. Literally.

The moment Sansa's vision cleared, she saw Galina had just finished rolling back up to her feet in a smooth motion and had her two-handed blade in a ready stance. Matching the girl's stance, Sansa was prepared to avenge Arya's defeat when they heard clapping from beyond the duelling area.

Turning around, Sansa and Galina faces blushed red upon seeing the Lord of Harrenhal standing there with the Kingslayer, Jaime Lannister. Both men cut dashing figures despite their dirtied garbs but Sansa narrowed her eyes at the blood stains on Arthur's tabard.

"I never knew Lady Sansa was so skilled!" Jaime Lannister was the first to speak up after he finished his clapping. "Good nephew, it appears you have _two_ skilled wives, unless Lady Daenerys is also a fighter of great renown?"

Arthur's eyes shone with pride as he gazed upon Sansa, making her blush, before he turned to look at the Kingslayer. "No, my sister doesn't have any martial ability to speak of, although I must admit, I _too_ am surprise by my lovely wife's skill as well."

Sansa's face stayed red at the compliment but assumed her "Lady of the Hearth" mode. With Mordred gone, that duty now fell to her. Which Sansa found out, to her dismay, involved many intricate things she didn't know the Princess had taken care of on a daily bases. Why, Sansa been so busy she barely had time to put the finishing touches on Arthur's new armor!

How did Mordred make it all look so effortless?

"My lord husband, why did you not send word ahead of time of your return?" Sansa asked as she lowered her blades.

"Because it is wasteful to have the entire castle go to such great lengths to give me a "proper welcome" every time I walk through the gates of my own home." Arthur replied, his distaste made clear, before he looked over to Galina and then to Arya, who blushed under his scrutiny of the tattered state of her clothes.

Sighing, Sansa walked over to Arthur and held out her cheek and was rewarded with a soft peck from her husband. She was getting used to open displays of affection, as had been taught to her by the other wives in Harrnehal.

"Well, you should get cleaned up while I prepare dinner, husband."

Arthur eyes lit up as if it was Christmas in her old world. She knew her food was good but Arthur's reaction to it every time was simply embarrassing.

"As my wife commands!"

Sansa grabbed a hold of his cloak just as Arthur turned to walk away, stopping him short, making him look at her questioningly.

"Husband… welcome home," Sansa smiled, welcoming him in the customary way of Shirou's native land. Something she only ever used with her family back when she was in Winterfell. Arthur looked confused before he smiled softly at her, gave her a soft kiss on her hand before going off to clean himself.

"I'm so jealous!" Arya commented as she stood next to her. "I can't wait until I get older..."

"Are you _still_ trying to be his fourth wife?" Sansa asked her little sister with a raised eyebrow. Looking back she saw Galina making her way over to them.

"You said you wouldn't oppose it if I wanted to, are you changing your mind?" Arya asked with a worried frown.

Sansa put her hand on her little sister's head and ruffled it, causing the girl to give out an indignant cry. Arya had been so mad at her when Arthur (accidentally) won her hand in marriage from Joffrey, but somehow she had gotten it into her head that if Arthur could have a second wife, and even a third, then she could be the fourth. The only thing she wanted was Sansa's support when the time came. Sansa, in order to make peace with her sister, had reluctantly agreed, but pointed out that she was still too young to even be considered for Arthur to wed, let alone bed.

Arya had been stubborn at first, wanting it to happen as soon as possible. That was until Mordred's wedding. The aftermath had been the talk of the Red Keep with the ladies exaggerating Arthur size and his preference, something that threw Arya for a loop. Then Sansa's own wedding happened and, well, the Northern girls saw exactly what Arthur had equipped. Then there was Alys' gossiping, who had only caught the tail end of Sansa's conversation with Mordred. And after those rumours spread... Arya, while eager, found that her heart was not quite ready to face the "Devouring Dragon" of Essos.

That, and if Arya was ever going to marry Arthur, she would need the approval of her parents; and the girl wasn't ready to tell her mother about her wish just yet. Or ever.

"I'm not, but you are not his wife yet and you need to grow a bit more before he'll consider you," Sansa finished just as Galina arrived.

"Good bout!" Galina clapped both Arya and Sansa on their shoulders and gave a smile so bright that the two Stark girls could not help but return it. "You are remarkable skilled with those blades, my lady. They suit you well."

"I still was not a match for you," Sansa replied in disappointment. Between her side projects which included better plumbing, enforcing sanitation, her Workshop, and the Greenhouse; the time for her to practice her sword skills had been non-existent!

"On the contrary! I had to really concentrate. I must say, I've never encountered that particular fighting style before, how did you come up with it?" Galina asked as the three girls made their way to the Romanesque bathhouse where Sansa had piped in hot water, making an impromptu hot spring.

So far they had a public one for the men, another one for the women, one for the soldiers and finally one for Arthur and his wives (and Arya, when Arthur wasn't there). Arthur usually bathed with the rest of the soldiers to show that he was not any different from them and rarely used the one meant for his own private use. As such, Mordred, Arya, and her used it to their hearts' content. Still, back to the question at hand, how could she say two guys from another reality help streamline her style?

"I picked it up here and there," Sansa replied evasively. The answered appeared to be good enough as all the Vice-Captain of the Warrior Maidens did was nod.

"I see. It's not suited to my style as I do prefer to, as Arya's says, 'stick them with the pointy end'?" Galina looked to Arya who giggled in response.

"It was Jon's advice, not mine," Arya replied with a smiled before both her and Sansa face fell. Thoughts of Jon always made them sad.

"Ah, your half-brother isn't he?" Galina asked curiously and was taken aback by Arya and Sansa's fierce glare.

"He isn't half anything!" Arya corrected vehemently. "He's our brother!"

"Arya, don't be rude! While Jon is indeed our brother it is also true that he has a different mother than us." Sansa chided her little sister but she understood her dislike the term. It was something their mother forever tried to get her and Arya to call Jon by, but failed. Galina, however, did not know, her expression was one of puzzlement. "I apologize on my sister's behalf. It's just... Jon's often treated badly since he's a bastard."

"Ah, I understand," the sandy brown haired beauty's face lit up in understanding. "Well, I shall like to meet him one day, if I ever get the chance."

Galina's comment did a good job of appeasing Arya. Once more Sansa wished Jon was here; he wouldn't have been discriminated against in Harrenhal, not with Arthur as its lord. Why, he could even court Galina, which Sansa thought would've been a good match; she was pretty, kind and nice. Instead he was off freezing up at the Wall, that stubborn fool.

They made their way into the private bath and noticed the spacious area was well lit due to the light streaming in from the window. Sansa had it modeled it after the Japanese style, her homeland in another life. It had another wall separating the bathing area where they could discard their sweaty clothes. Any reservations that Sansa had about being naked with other girls was long gone after being a girl for over a decade. She turned to a maid by the door and asked her to fetch them some simple clothes while putting the ones they had in the laundry basket.

"Your skin is flawless!" Galina eyes light up in admiration as she ran her eyes up and down Sansa's body. Suddenly the girl hand reached out and traced a line down her spine. "And smooth like a baby!"

"Stupid cow, getting bigger again!" Arya grumbled jealously as she stared at Sansa's still growing breasts.

Sansa sighed at her sister's comment. It wasn't her fault, they just kept on growing! Looking at Arya's own build, Sansa could tell that Arya would end up slim rather than curvy. Her special diet was doing nothing for the girl. She looked at Galina and noticed the girl's skin was tanned, toned but decorated with faded scars on it. However she was a cup smaller than Sansa herself, despite her youth. She didn't know why, but she oddly smug at that fact.

"Well, you are not half bad yourself," Sansa returned the compliment and purposefully ignored Arya's comment, besides, she was a little proud of herself for turning out so well. Why, she might even turn out to be as big as Mitsuzuri – no even better – Sakura, by the time she reached her fifteenth name day!

After the three finished undressing, they entered the main bathing area, where a large square bath that could fit well over twenty people was situated at the center of the room. She had created pseudo-sinks to mimic a Japanese bathhouse so they could pre-scrub. That idea went over really well with the women of the Harrnehal, but Sansa suspected that they were wasted on the men.

Thankfully, Arthur had put his foot down, and thus it was now the accepted way to bathe in Harrenhal. Next on Sansa's list were public baths for all! Because quite frankly, the sanitation she seen down in the South scared the living hell out of her. Honestly, when she'd first arrived at King's Landing she'd been able to smell the shit from several miles away.

Just as the girls took small buckets and dumped warm water over their heads, a noise from the central bath made itself known. Sansa hastily looked around for a weapon while Galina was already running to the bath with her bucket in hand, ready to use as a bludgeoning object.

All of that was unnecessary however, as moments later, Arthur rose out of the center of the bath shaking his head and body, looking completely surprised at seeing the three of them in there with him.

Sansa heard Arya gasp from beside her while Galina was frozen in mid step, looking wide eyed at her liege lord. Sansa had to admit, her husband looked like he stepped out one of those gaijin model magazine she used to see the girls in her class carry around. It occurred to her that she was a gaijin now too...

Arthur's hair was wet and matted, but in a way that she had to admit make him look handsome. His sculpted body was glistening wet from the water, with most of it beginning to form into bead and trail down his body in little line and... his manhood, even not in its aroused state, was there for the three of them to gape at wide-eyed.

"M-W- Sansa... I, I didn't know you were going to bathe so soon," Arthur stammered as his face took on a red hue, his eyes only staying on his wife after getting an eyeful of the other two girls, though he took extra care not to stare at Arya.

"I-I thought you would bathe with the men like you usually do, husband." Sansa stammered back in replied and felt Arya moved behind her and bury her heard behind her back. She could feel the embarrassment radiating off her little sister. Galina however, was still looking at her liege lord with wide eyes.

"I- I- I was-," Arthur stammered a bit before his flushed face got under control and he looked directly at Sansa. "I was excited about the prospect of a meal cooked by you so... I went here first so I could clean myself quickly..."

"Ah..." Sansa commented as she understood why her husband was here now, not that he didn't have a right to be, just why he was here. Now.

"I-I'll leave you ladies to it then," Arthur began to excuse himself, but Sansa could still see he was dirty. Well..this was HIS bath too.

"No, stay," Sansa was surprised the words left her mouth. Behind her she swore she heard Arya let out a little squeak that was matched by Galina's 'eep.' "You are still dirty and the bath is large enough to accommodate us all. Beside, I am your wife, it's not like you haven't seen me like this before."

Once more Arya let out another squeak at her reasoning but in all honesty Sansa herself was surprised. Simply put, Arya was too young for Arthur to view in that way and Galina from Essos, where people were much more liberal with these sort of things, though the girl did appear stunned now, so maybe she wasn't that liberal herself.

"No, it's alright, and I can see my presence makes Galina uncom-"

"No!" Galina immediately shouted as she lowered the bucket and took on a demure look. "I do not mind it your ma- lordship. I know you are not a lecherous sort."

Sansa narrowed her eyes at Galina's comment, since when did the girl know her husband that well? And why was she thinking like this?! Argh!

"Are you sure?" Arthur asked, looking at Galina who nodded firmly, he then turned his attention to Sansa as if asking for permission.

"I was the one that suggested it, so come, we're wasting time," Sansa pointed out and knew that somehow, some way, Mordred would find out about this.

+++ Dinner+++

Dinner was a quiet affair with just Sansa, Arthur and Arya. Usually Mordred was here to liven up the table with talk about the day to day things in Harrenhal, but she was gone now, and Sansa did not know what to say after that undeniably awkward bath, which had put so much red on Arya's face that Sansa was worried her sister would have a stroke.

"Is it good?" Sansa spoke up to make polite conversation. The dish she made today was chicken penne pasta with garlic buttered bread. It was one of the simplest and easiest things for Sansa to make given the abundance of flour in Westeros. However, she would kill for some rice.

Arthur, dressed in a simple gray tunic with elegantly patterned designs, had been eating with gusto, stopped and nodded. "It is more than 'good' Sansa, this is food that rivals a feast fit for kings, no, even the gods themselves!"

Sansa faced flushed at her husband's compliment before she cleared her throat and looked to Arya who had finished her meal quite some time ago.

"So I noticed that you were still wearing the armor from when you, umm, _arrived_ at King's Landing," Sansa began conversationally. Along with the pasta dish she also made some fruit juice mix to wash it down with, much to Arthur's delight. After gulping said drink, her husband looked at her and waited for her to continued.

"What of it?" Arthur replied after he finished drinking as a serving maid refilled his cup.

"Yes, well, Mordred and I had noticed that you haven't worn anything that makes you stand out from any other sellsword," Sansa sighed at her husband's confused look.

"But… I _was_ a sellsword..."

"You were," Sansa agreed patiently. "But you are not anymore, that is why Mordred and I had a new set of armor crafted for you after you rejected the sword we made..."

Truth be told Sansa was still a bit sore about that point, that was her first perfect creation of Damascus steel that Gendry and her had made after many many failed attempts, but Arthur had declined and said such a blade should go to the King of Westeros first, as a gift.

If she had known that he'd say that, Sansa would have made it less elegant. The swords that she had crafted after were reserved ahead of time, truth be told, giving King Robert one had not even crossed her mind. After all from what she understood, he preferred a warhammer over a blade. Naturally Robb got the second one, but Mordred asked her to name it the third one. So the third that was meant for Tywin Lannister became the second. After that the fourth went to Gendry as a reward for helping her forge them all in the first place. The seventh belonged to Bran for when he was eventually knighted, a gift that would no doubt make him very happy indeed. Jon would have received the fifth blade if not the fact that he already had something much better: an actual Valyrian steel blade. The fifth blade was also a longsword, which was not Arthur's preferred weapon, so Mordred had requested it for her uncle Tyrion Lannister, commonly known as the Imp. She reforged it into a gladius so that the shorter man would actually be able to wield it.

"Do not worry, wife, _Irisviel _is still reliable," Arthur smiled as he pat the two-hander next to him. Naturally him doing that made her eyes shifted to _Kiritsugu_ that was always by Arthur's side and was now casually placed on the table.

"Why do you always do that?" Arthur asked suddenly making Sansa eye her husband, who was wearing a perplexed expression.

"I'm sorry?" Sansa asked in confusion.

"Every time I mention _Irisviel_ you always give her companion, _Kiritsugu_, a heavy look," Arthur pointed out much to Sansa's surprise, she didn't think he would notice something so trivial. "Why is that?"

"Y-You noticed?" Sansa asked in a bewildered tone.

"You are my wife, and they are my swords. Of course I noticed," Arthur smiled in that gentle way of his. "While I have been rather busy of late, and I have… more than one wife, I do not intend to be neglectful. If there is anything you ever need from me, you have but to ask."

Sansa was simply stunned at Arthur's declaration, truth be told, she _too_ had been busy, but had not been paying much attention to him. Somehow knowing that he did made her chest feel warm. Still, she didn't want to confront Arthur about her father from her previous life.

"I-It is nothing..."

"Nonsense," Arthur said in a firm tone as he sat up straighter in his chair. "For a long time you have always looked as if you wanted to ask me something, but I did not want to pressed you, but now we are over six months into our marriage. Whatever it is, you can last talk about it with your own husband."

_'Whoever called Arthur oblivious was completely wrong!' _Sansa thought as she stared at her husband. She looked at his eyes and saw that they were determine to get to the bottom of this matter that he thought was troubling his wife.

"Arya, can I trouble you to leave the room so your sister and I can talk privately?" Arthur asked the girl in a respectful tone, making her blink. Even Sansa was blinking as she looked up to her husband and saw him making subtle signal to dismiss the servants.

Arya only took one look at Arthur's beseeching eyes before she nodded her consent. Rising from her seat she gave Sansa a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before she left the room with the servers. With a hand motion, his personal guards shut the doors tight to prevent eavesdroppers.

"Now that we are alone and have some privacy, do you feel comfortable now?" Arthur asked after a few moments of silence in a gentle encouraging tone.

Sansa was amazed by how Arthur took charged, it was all so effortless. Before she knew it she had been sucked into his pace and could not make an escape even if she wanted to...

"Sansa?"

Again, Sansa was startled as Arthur had gotten from his seat and was now next to her looking at her with a concern expression. A million and one thoughts went through her head, should she ask him? Even the other Shirou and Archer did not know about the man she once admired most in the whole world. More importantly, she liked this life. If she told him, if she asked about Kiritsugu, would he no longer view her as Sansa, but something that had taken over Sansa's body?

Evidently, the worried on her face was visible as Arthur grabbed her hand and held it reassuringly. "Sansa, you need not fear anything-"

Was the expression on her face truly one of fear?

"Whatever it is that you have to ask of me, know that you may do so without reservations. You have my word that absolutely nothing will change between us." Arthur swore solemnly. An oath made by the King of Knights was as good as a legally binding contract in Sansa's opinion. Still... it was about time she learned more about Kiritsugu before he rescued the boy known as Shirou from the fire, something only Arthur could know about. She had delayed long enough.

"... I hope you still feel that way after you hear what I have to say," Sansa exhaled deeply and met Arthur's violet eyes with her blue one. He didn't say anything else but just simply motion for her to continue. Taking a few deep breath she steeled herself for his reaction.

"You are Arthur Pendragon," Arthur merely nodded a bit. "Who was Arturia Pendragon, High King of Britannia, on the planet _Earth_."

To her amazement Arthur merely sighed but nodded for her to continue.

"You were also summoned to fight in the Fourth Holy Grail War under Emiya Kiritsugu…"

Now _that_ got a reaction out of Arthur as he stared at her in shock and now to go in for the finisher.

"…My father."

Arthur looked at her in wide eye amazement as he trailed his thumb on her cheek and really took in her face. "Illyasviel?"

Sansa blinked. Now that was not expected. "Who?"

"You are not Kiritsugu's daughter, Illyasviel?" Arthur eyes searched Sansa face once more. "He had another child?"

"I had a sister?" Sansa whispered and suddenly some of Kiritsugu's old sadness made sense. Then another thought occurred to her. …Those assholes in her Reality Marble never told her about her having a sister!

"Yes, she seemed to be four or five years old when I saw her last at the Einzbern castle, when I had first been summoned by Kiritsugu." Arthur closed his eyes sadly as he dropped his hand and leaned away from her. "Judging by your reaction, you are not aware of her, correct?"

"I had a sister..." Sansa was trying to wrap her head around that concept. Her father's sadness, his long trips. Then something else occurred to her. "You are taking this quite well... I mean, I did just tell you I came from our home world and know who you are. You don't think that's strange?"

Sansa expected many things but a chuckle was not one of them. "Had you told me when I was in King's Landing, the first time we met, I would have been shocked beyond belief."

"Well... in that case, you should know that I was Emiya Kiritsugu's _son,"_ Sansa emphasized the "son" part and waited for Arthur's reaction, only to see him chuckling once more with an amused look.

"Again, I am not surprised," Arthur shook his head lightly. "These past few months have been enlightening to say the least."

Now Sansa was curious. "How can you be so calm about all of this? I was a boy you know! You married a boy!"

Suddenly Arthur smiled teasingly at her as he cupped her face. "I think I have irrevocable proof that you were a girl from what I saw on our wedding night."

"W-Wha..." Sansa felt her face heated up at reminder of what happened that night. That's right. He bedded her. Oh gods! He bedded her... well, yes he would know then wouldn't he. Thankfully, he relented on her and stopped his teasing as his face took on a serious tone.

"As for what changed, many things, but you are not the first reincarnated person from my previous life," Arthur informed Sansa and it was her turned to be shocked.

"M-Mordred?" Sansa ventured and was afraid if that was the case then her sister-wife had killed her husband in their previous lives. This time, instead of chuckling, Arthur outright laughed.

"Yes, well, with you knowing who I was in my previous life, that would be the obvious conclusion, wouldn't it?" Arthur placed his arm on the table before he rested his head on his palm looking distant.

"S-she's not?" Sansa asked and felt immensely relieved.

"No, she is not," Arthur replied with a soft smile. "Though she shares the traitor's name, she is not him. Their personalities are as different as night and day, and I am sure my Mordred would have tried to strike me down the instant he realized who I am. His hatred for me ran unreasonably deep."

Sansa had to blinked at that and realized that if there was one person that would know who Mordred -the traitorous one- was, then it would be undoubtedly be the one who was killed by him and killed him in return. However, if not Mordred, then who? Her husband must have noticed as he looked at her with a smile.

"Lady Gywr was Sir Gawain, Galina her daughter was Galahad, Lord Gwynn of House Lake, whom you might recall from our time in Riverrun, was my former wife and queen, Guinevere. His sister was one Lancelot, who now goes by the name Lorelei."

…

…

…

"That's ridiculous!" Sansa stood up and looked at her husband in disbelief at who he had listed! No wonder she had a hard time besting Galina!

_'Congratulation stupid-Sansa! You just fought a legendary Round Table KNIGHT!'_

Thank something else occurred to her as the new information finally sank in.

_'Holy crap! I __**fought**__ a Legendary Round Table Knight!'_

"Such was my own reaction at first, but they have more than proven their identities to me." Arthur shook his head ruefully, suddenly his face paled, making Sansa looked at him questioningly.

"What is it?" Sansa prompted and saw Arthur looking nervous for a few moments before he exhaled deeply.

"I had wanted to wait until the right time to explain myself but... Gwynn came to me a few weeks ago asking for my assistance to help Lorelei escape an unwanted marriage…"

Sansa blinked but nodded. It made sense that Arthur would try to help his former knights and seeing as Lancelot was a girl and from a notable House, an unwanted marriage was very likely.

"Well I am glad that you-"

"By making her my Mistress." Arthur finished and immediately looked at Sansa for her reaction.

"...What." Sansa asked in a flat tone of voice before she glared at Arthur, realizing the implications. After all her mother drilled political lessons in her all her life. "Do you realize the shame you will bring upon Mordred by doing this?! Or me?!"

"... I do," Arthur replied in a guilty tone but looked at Sansa hopefully. "I-I did ask for Mordred's permission first... she gave her consent. It seems she shares Gwynn's dislike for Lorelei's suitor."

Sansa blinked once more before a wave of affection for the younger girl(in her mind) made itself known. Still, her sense of Justice had been activated and it would stand in judgement of Arthur now, the King of Knights be damned! "Do you realize what she is doing for you?"

"I know," Arthur shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "I... I owe her much. If she ever wants anything, even if it is the sun and stars... I will do everything in my power to get it for her."

It was only then that Sansa realized what she was doing. Her arms was folded across her chest in a very familiar manner and looking down on the freaking KING OF KNIGHTS! She was like Tohsaka, that bastard Archer will have a good laugh at her expense when he finds out about this. And Sansa sadly knew that he _would_ find out about this. He may be a bastard, but he was an observant bastard.

"Ahem..." Sansa cleared her throat before sitting back down and looked at the contrite looking King of Knights. "So long as you understand the sacrifice she made for you and not take her for granted, I also give my consent for you to take Lady Lorelei as your mistress."

"Thank you." Arthur replied immediately with a fierce protective look in his eyes. "And know that I will _never_ take you or Mordred for granted."

The two fell into silence after that, as Sansa digested the fact that Lancelot -or rather- _Lorelei_, would be joining Arthur's little harem now.

_'Oh gods, Archer will have a field day with this...'_

"So... while you did give your consent, do you have any concerns regarding Gwynn's arrangement with me and Lorelei?" Arthur bravely ventured into the Wolf's Den again.

"No. My only concern is for Mordred, if she has given you her full support then I will do the same. More accurately, I _must_ do the same." Sansa hung her head. Archer was right; karma was a bitch. Sansa also made a note to kick Shirou in the fucking crotch the next time she saw him for screwing three girls at once. At last count, he also had Sakura in his little harem.

"You are wrong my lady, you have every right to oppose this arrangement. You are also my wife, regardless of what your gender was in any other life," Arthur spoke firmly, making Sansa eyes widen. He didn't view her as a freak? He must have seen her uncertainty. Before she knew it, he had cupped her face and leaned in for a deep kiss.

Sansa mind immediately went numb at the sensation before Arthur broke the kiss.

"I decided a long time ago, only the life we have right now matters. Yes, we had lives before and they make us who we are, but they are NOT all we are, unless you feel your experience in Westeros is lesser than that of yours on Earth?"

Sansa immediately shook her heard, both her old life and her old family were important to her, but her Shirou aspect was in the past. She had a new family who was alive, who loved her, who cared for her. Arthur was right, because she was still alive, her past experience was part of who she was, but it was not all she was or would become.

"I-I see. Thank you." Sansa mumbled before she saw Arthur shifted a bit and before she realized it he held out the Valyrian steel dirk to her. "What are you-?"

"Take it," Arthur told his wife, motioning for her to take it off his hands.

"I- I can't, it's too valuable..." Sansa politely tried to decline but Arthur simply shook his head and rejected her refusal.

"Take it, please. I named it after your father, so it is only fitting that it reside with one of his children," Arthur insisted as he took Sansa's right hand and placed the sheathed dirk in her palm.

Sansa saw Arthur's unwavering gaze and once more was struck by how Arthur could switch from being a pushover to an unwavering knight worthy of the title of King. Nodding, she closed her hand over _Kiritsugu_.

'_Father_...'

"Thank you..." she whispered. Even though it was not anything real from the father figure in her previous life, it still felt like a true memento of him. Perhaps it was because Arthur had fought and bled by his side.

Arthur merely waved away her thanks but smiled softly at her. "It truly is the least I could do for you."

"D-Do you think you can tell me about him- and the Fourth Grail War?" Sansa asked in a small voice not wanting to meet Arthur's eyes. She knew he hated her former father; the Shirou in her Reality Marble confirmed that with his Arturia, who apparently still refused to even talk about him to this day.

"Any time you wish." Arthur replied without hesitation. "I will warn you though that some of the things I have to say about him are less than flattering. Are you sure you want to get started on it this late?"

Sansa realized that the Fourth Grail War was probably a long and complicated tale. She'll learn about it later. "Perhaps… if you have time tomorrow?"

"I will have time tomorrow, and every day after as well." Arthur answered, and Sansa knew that he had just cleared his schedule for her. Another wave of warmth emanated from her chest at his gesture. He truly was doing everything he could to please her.

"Oh!" Sansa suddenly remember what she originally wanted to tell Arthur before everything got... complicated. She looked around the room and spotted the box that was discreetly placed there before Arthur's arrival for dinner.

"Arthur, would you be so kind as to check that box over there?"

Arthur looked at her curiously but did as she bid and dragged the box effortlessly to the table. With an encouraging gesture from her he opened the box and gasped. The first thing he took out was a blue dress-like padding that Mordred and Arya had sewn together.

"I hope it fits, Mordred was sure she got your measurements right," Sansa asked and reddened as Arthur took to unbuttoning his blue tunic and discard his shirt easily. He then slid the padding over himself.

"It's exquisite," Arthur marvelled at the stitching pattern all along this arms length down to the cuff. "She did this all by herself?"

"Arya helped. If you look on the left, you see a wolf stitched by your left wrist."

Arthur turned his wrist to look at the baldy sewn wolf that look more like a cat if he were to be honest, and chuckled, knowing whose work it was. "I will have to thank Lady Arya."

"I believe that bath with you was all the thanks she needed..." Sansa muttered to herself.

"What was that?" Arthur asked as he admired the elegant pattern.

"Nothing. Now remove the rest of its contents." Sansa said quickly, diverting his attention as he shifted through the straws and gasped once more.

"Th-This is..." Arthur stopped as he held the shining silver like breastplate in front of him. He quickly donned it on his chest and fastened the straps as if he had done it all his life. Next he put on the greaves, follow by the gauntlet, and finally the lower body guard.

It was then Arthur looked at the final piece in the long box. With great reverence, he pulled out a long elegant lance with a moon symbol tipped that Sansa crafted. Attached to it was the newly created banner of House Pendragon. It was royal blue with white stitching of the twin dragons, wreathe, sword, and shield on it.

Sansa felt her breath taken away as Arthur turned to face her with his lance banner in his hands. He truly looked like a legendary hero come to life and the living picture of the King of Knights. She swore right there on the spot, she would make a sword worthy of him to carry into battle. Upon retrospect, the plain looking Damascus Blade she forged for him initially would have looked out of place. Sansa would not allow HER blade to be the thing that marred Arthur's image.

"It is exquisite. Did Mordred make the banner too?" Arthur asked even as he splayed the banner across his hand and looked at the symbols stitched to it, a gentle warmth making itself known in his heart.

"For the banner, Mordred felt that it should be done by the womenfolk of Harrenhal, both noble and smallfolk alike." Sansa smiled as she saw Arthur's eyes widen comically as he stared at the banner.

"So I carry the people of Harrenhal with me into battle, is that it?" Arthur chuckled but there was a soft private smile. "My clever little wife."

"Well, she is thoughtful," Sansa agreed before she saw him scrutinize her.

"But she is not the only one, is she my lady?" Arthur asked as he rapped his knuckles his breastplate. "You made this."

"Yes, but not alone," Sansa corrected, she would give credit where credit was due. "I couldn't have made it without Gendry's help."

"Send Master Gendry my thanks then, would you?" Arthur told his wife as he hung the banner so that it would be draped against the wall as he walked toward her.

"He was already honored to have helped, but of course I shall tell him," Sansa said in a pleased voice, after all, Gendry was her apprentice after a fashion. "It is too bad Mordred was not here to see you don it."

Arthur blinked. "She wanted to?"

"Yes," Sansa sighed sadly. But Mordred had merely told her she had to leave now to do damage control about something. After hearing about Lorelei, she understood what that was now. Stupid Mordred. She should really learn to share her burdens; they were practically sisters now!

"Then why didn't you wait to give it to me?" Arthur asked as he looked down at his armor, his face had a resign expression it showing that he too would have wanted to see Mordred desire fulfilled.

"She made me promise to give it to you as soon as I was done with it. She'd rather have you in good armor to protect yourself rather then risk you getting wounded because she wanted to see you wear the armor first," Sansa explained somewhat sadly, yet understanding Mordred's reasoning.

If the armor was ready, it was ready. She would make several more sets for Arthur while Mordred had already enacted plans to get the rest of the smiths to start hammering out armors of the same design, if not material. Sansa also planned to teach blacksmithing to bastards using a classroom format, and Gendry had volunteered to be her teaching assistant. Having everyone fighting under House Pendragon's uniformed would only be proper, thought it might take a year or two before they would start to see the change on a large scale.

"I always find I am an inadequate husband to Her Grace," Arthur sighed in resignation as he began to take off the armor's pieces. Sansa had specifically designed it so that a single knight could wear and remove the armor without assistance, since Arthur didn't like having a squire.

"Inadequate or not, she's very happy to be married to you," Sansa made sure there was no misconception about where Arthur stood with Mordred. The girl was completely smitten with Arthur, something that Sansa herself had yet to be. Of course she knew that she could maybe eventually truly love him, but at the moment he merely had her hand, not her love.

"I honestly don't see how," Arthur replied in a soft tone. "She's always so skittish around me, like a doe really. Fitting for a Baratheon, don't you think?"

"More like a shy kitten," Sansa joked and shared a laughed with her husband before he looked at her again.

"So, what made you think earlier that you had no right to complain about me having multiple wives?" Arthur asked gently, perhaps to get Sansa to feel comfortable about the subject she realized. He really didn't forget, though he assured her, he still wanted to know why. Well, might as well tell him.

"Are you sure you want to know?" Sansa warned.

"Of course."

"From time to time, I meet with other versions of myself in something call a Reality Marble," Sansa looked to Arthur and saw him nodded along.

"Ah, that, yes. Merlin explained the concept to me once, but I believe only a person with a broken view of the world could acquire one?" Arthur guessed and saw Sansa frown.

"Not broken, more like distorted..." Sansa half defended herself but gave up on it. Her father, Lord Eddard Stark already rebuked her about her misplaced sensed of justice, saying that even though she had the right idea, that did not mean it was the correct way to go about it. She wondered if her father was distorted in some way too, being able to understand her so deeply.

"However, one version is a Counter Guardian who works for the will of the world-"

"Alaya." Arthur voiced and Sansa nodded.

"The other is a version of me that survived the Fifth Holy Grail War-"

"Fifth?!" Arthur half yelled in shocked.

"-Where he summoned Arturia Pendragon as his Servant," Sansa saw Arthur's eyes shone with confusion for a second before he blinked in understanding. "And after going through a lot of obstacles, they ended up winning the war. However during the course of the war he, that is my other self, formed a relationship with Arturia-"

Arthur eyes widen comically before shook his head as if amused. Now it was time for her to tell the rest to him.

"And two other women- that I know in my old life-. The four of them are currently living together as lovers... sometimes they share the same bed all at once."

Arthur jaw had dropped after she finished her explanation.

"So you see now why now I have no rights to complain?" Sansa shook her head and saw that Arthur's mouth was still open from the revelation of Sansa's – and his own – alternate self living what he suspected was a life of debauchery. "If I haven't ended up here, chances are that I would be living the same life you have here... so in this matter, you will never hear my complaints about it."

"..."

Sansa sighed as she looked at her husband. "You should probably close your mouth now before something flies in there, husband..."

TBC!

AN: Dem WHEELS! It's okay, I got into a pit stop and they changed my tires! Ready to get back on the track and make them laps!

First off thanks to Paragon and Deus for whooping this lazy ass fic into shape! Seriously! Without them , this fic would not be this good. Also thanks you all for not only getting me into the 600+ Club. Wow! You guys rocks!

So this was it, the reveal! Bet it didn't go down like how ya imagine and that is good. So Now Arthur know who Sansa was, and same with Sansa, while Mordred still in the Dark about Sansa Orgin but is well aware of Arthur's. But yes, that will happen too.

Somehow, along the way, of making this amusing fic, amusing to me, I made a genuine story out of this, so yes, I dunno how it happened so it is not all random slapstick. I guess the funny that I am going for now is still Irony plus scene that just make you crack a smile or grinned form ear to ear.

Now, someone mention that Damascus should not be name Damacus, and they are right! The steel is actually called Mordium by Sansa at Mordred joking offer. Mordium are considered the closest thing to real Valyrian blades you can get. It's not as good as Valyrian steel of course but it quite serviceable. The irony is all over the place. I know!

Okay, was just joking. Those blades are known as Harren Blade's. Name because they were created in Harrenhal. The steel itself won't be an issue as any smith can melt down a Harren blade but reforging it is another thing. Valryian steel are actual magic steel made to be shape into blade and you can melt it down and put it in any shape you'd like. It'll STILL be Valyrian steel. Harren Blade loses it's value the moment you melt it down.

Thank you all for leaving awesome reviews, especially those that left long thoughtful ones that make me grinned from ear to ear. They got some crazy theories out there but a few hit the marks. Very few :)

Up Next!: Lorelei arrival and Mordred's return.

As always C+C Welcome, reviews appreciated!


	16. Book 2: Chapter 5

Game of Thrones belong to G.R.R.M

Fate Stay Night belong to Type Moon

Special Thanks: Special thanks to Deus and Paragon for editing this! Especially the latter, who despite his busy work schedule and real life obligation STILL manages to find time to help me polish this fic!

A Throne Nobody Wants

Book 2: Chapter 5

*** Sansa***

Sansa blinked, the last thing she remembered was going to bed. Now she found herself standing alone in her Meadow of Blades. Well, not alone as her direwolf, Taiga, was sleeping underneath the Heart Tree at the center of her field. It was her signature and a reflection of the core of her very soul, or at least that was how Archer had explained it to her. As for the Counter Guardian himself, he had his floating gear works while the other Shirou had a clear field, which meant his full potential was yet untapped.

Still, none of that mattered as Sansa was excited to be back in the Reality Marble world and have a chance to talk to those two idiots again. Turning around she expected the two to greet her already only to gasp at the sight before her.

"W-What is..." Sansa looked in the distance, the Gear world and the Dawning world were now covered in ice. Or to be more exact, the Gearwork world were completely frozen in ice and a blue hue was over permeating it, while the Dawn world was covered in snow.

"Trace on..." she whispered as the two scimitar blades that her two male counterparts wielded manifested in her hands. Looking back at her direwolf, who seem oblivious to everything, she decided to let Taiga sleep.

Steeling herself, Sansa began her trek to the borders. She noted that her own lands were still pristine and untouched by whatever wintery grip had encased the other two. It took anywhere from a few minutes to several hours, she was not sure which – time was a funny thing when you were dreaming – but when she got to the edge that was her Reality Marble, she looked to the other two frozen lands and opted to venture out toward the less cold Dawn world.

"Hey, that's Hell you're walking into," a familiar snarky voice spoke up behind her.

Sansa turned around and was immediately on the defensive, but was relieved to see the tall bronze skin man that couldn't have been anyone but her older alternate self.

"Archer, what's going on?" Sansa asked, looking at the other two Reality Marbles. It was then that she noticed Archer's state; his clothes had visible wear and tear on them and his stance was one that showed obvious signs of fatigue.

"It appears we underestimated the importance of your world," Archer sighed as he sat down on the icy side of his field. "What was your House's words again... ah yes. 'Winter is coming,' right?"

Sansa nodded in confirmation.

"How apt," Archer chuckled to himself as he seem to relaxed a bit more in her presence.

"Archer," Sansa looked at the man worriedly. "What happened?"

"We are at war," Archer spoke softly as mist puffed from his mouth with every word. "We are at war on every conceivable level, a war so massive in scale that this-"

Archer motioned to all three of theirs reality marbles.

"-is merely the collateral damage from it."

"Where's Shirou?" Sansa asked, wondering why the other boy wasn't here. She began to look for him in his snow-covered Reality Marble.

"Don't worry about that idiot, I was coming to help him," Archer sighed exaggeratedly as if the very thought was a chore. "After all, _my_ world is already lost."

"Stop speaking in riddles and explain yourself Archer!" Sansa shouted at the red clad man, tired of his cryptic responses.

Archer chuckled as he stood up and pointed at her. "I don't fully understand myself, so how can I explain myself to you?"

Sansa looked at the other side where Shirou's Dawn land still had its sun shining. "Then let me help you."

Archer shook his head. "I'm afraid that's my task alone for the time being, although I do have a message for you. Well, more like a warning from Alaya."

Sansa's eyes widened. Did Archer just said there was a warning for her from the Will of Humanity?

"_The Long Night falls_," Archer spoke before his mouth twisted distastefully. "I have no idea what that means, but I was made aware that it is on your world that the entire war would be decided."

"M-My world?" Sansa asked, more confused than before but Archer just shrugged, apparently having delivered his whole message.

"Hell if I know," Archer shrugged before giving her a long look. "Just do whatever it is you've been doing, these things tend to work themselves out… and as always, I'll be here to clean up the mess afterwards once everything is said and done."

"Archer..." Sansa confusedly replied. Suddenly she felt a hand on her head, its touch was cold. Looking up, she saw that Archer was now in her Meadow.

"Damn, it feels nice over here," Archer lip quirked as he beheld her inner world. "Has that womanly touch you kno- ugh!"

Sansa removed her fist from Archer's gut who had doubled over in pain from her shot. "Dumbass! Showing up, being all cryptic with your words and now doing this? Can't you give me a straight answer?"

"Just… be careful," Archer advised before he ruffled her hair and walked into his younger self's snowy land.

And then Sansa woke up.

It took Sansa a moment to get her bearings, but she found Arya next to her and the sun beaming through her windows. On either side of their bed were their two ever-growing direwolves, whose breathing came out in loud rumblings.

There was suddenly knocking at the door as her handmaiden, Shae, made her way in. Shae was a self-proclaimed traveler in pursuit of a better life than the one she had fled, and she just so happened to pay for said travels with her body rather than coin. Her whoring herself out had eventually taken her to the North, and it was there that she met Sansa, who had decided to give her what she wanted.

"My Lady, Lord Arthur bid me to inform you that today was the day of Lady Lorelei's arrival and that if you do not wish to be present, you do not have to." Shae spoke softly but had a frown on her face.

"It would be rude not to greet our newest resident." Sansa eventually told the woman, who merely nodded. The conversation stirred Arya awake as she blinked blearily before yawning. "Arya, would you like to come greet Lady Lorelei?"

Arya face twisted into a small frown. "Arthur really going through with it?"

"He is, and he has my support, don't forget that," Sansa spoke gravely to her sister to remind her that Arthur was not dishonoring her in anyway. "Mordred also agreed to it before she left."

When word came of Arthur's intentions for the young lady of House Lake, it had caused a bit of a scandal among the smallfolk. Ser Jory had wanted to report it to Lord Stark immediately, but Sansa had stayed his hand, saying that what happened in House Pendragon was their business and nobody else's.

"Why? I just don't understand you two. Why agree to share Arthur with another woman?" Arya asked, even as Shae began to lay out the dress and basin of water.

"Arya, we are at three right now," Sansa told her sister with an arch look. "What's one more? Beside, she's not a wife, she's a mistress, which in reality is little more than a glorified handmaid. Most noble lords have one anyway..."

"Not father!" Arya countered and Sansa agreed she had a point up until a certain extent.

"True, but he did raise Jon despite our mother's misgivings, and a lord raising their own bastard is even more uncommon in the Seven Kingdoms. Aside from Dorne, of course." Sansa rebutted and saw Arya face scrunch up, having never thought of it that way.

"Bah!" Arya huffed at losing this philosophical duel with her older sister. Again.

"When she gets here try not to be mean to her alright? Mordred and I have nothing against her, and she really has no choice in the matter," Sansa asked her sister who looked alarmed.

"Arthur is forcing himself on her?!" Arya asked in shock looking at her sister, wide eyed.

"No!" Sansa immediately corrected. No need to let a rumor of that sort spread. "No, she was going to married to a bad person, but instead will be living with Arthur now, who you must admit, is a good person."

Arya slowly nodded her head. "How bad was the man she was to marry?"

"Mordred informed Arthur that the man challenged her for her hand in marriage three times, the third time he tried to pay someone to lace her drink with a weakening agent." Sansa frowned at hearing the length that Harrold Hardyng would go to try to obtain Mordred's hand, though she inwardly smirked upon recalling how Mordred told her how she'd knowingly drank the poison – "to make it interesting" she'd said – and she had still trounced him handily.

"He didn't!" Arya looked properly scandalized. "But how did Mordred know?"

"Arthur didn't ask, and neither did I. But if I had to guess, she probably smelled the elixir," Sansa reasoned before a cough from Shae informed her that everything was ready. "Anyway, be NICE to Lady Lorelei, understand?"

Arya nodded before she went to her room to get dressed.

"It's still mighty generous of you," Shae spoke up suddenly as she began to help Sansa into her dress. "Most high ladies such as yourself would have just told their husband to visit a whore or fuck one of the maids and be done with it, not let them keep one of their toys around in their own home."

"Everyone deserves a second chance," Sansa spoke up before looking in the mirror as Shae began to brush her hair. "Beside, in this case, it was simply the right thing to do."

+++ Harrenhal Great Hall+++

Sansa strode into the great hall and was greeted by all the men present, which included Mordred's uncle, Ser Jaime Lannister. Jory was looking displeased but she had already told him not to make a scene. Ser Jaime's face was stormy and he kept glaring daggers at Arthur, but Mordred had probably had a talk with him as well.

"Lord Gwynn and Lady Lorelei of House Lake," Bran announced as he walked in, followed by the reddish haired man she had seen at Riverrun. It was his sister, however, wearing an ocean-blue dress that was captivating to behold. Long curly black hair, a small slim frame, pert red lips, blue crystal eyes, and a face that was pale and flawless without a single blemish.

All of the men were visibly affected by the girl's beauty, all save Arthur himself, who only looked at the lady of House Lake impassively.

"Lady Lorelei, I welcome you to Harrenhal." Arthur declared formally.

"Lord Pendragon," Lorelei spoke up as she gracefully curtsied. Sansa noted that even her voice sounded smooth and elegant. "I am humble to be in your presence."

"Allow me to introduce my wife, Lady Sansa of House Stark." Arthur introduced giving Sansa a fond smile.

Sansa made eye contact with the girl who was only two years her senior and saw a guilty look flash across her face. Mordred had taught her that perception was everything, even down to the smallest gesture.

"Lady Lorelei," Sansa spoke up with a smiled before she walk from her husband side much to everyone in attendance's surprise, and embraced the dark haired beauty. "I welcome you into my House without reservation. And know that this is now your home as well."

Sansa felt Lorelei tense but slowly returned the embraced. "My sister-wife, Mordred, is who you would be serving but I would like a chance to get to know you more, if it is not too much trouble."

"O-Of course Lady Sansa," Lorelei murmured in confusion. She looked to her brother and Lord Gywr who appeared to be as surprised as his sister was.

Sansa turned around to face her husband. "I am sure you can get to know Lady Lorelei better later, do you mind parting with her for a while?"

Arthur, who, while surprised but had hidden it better than most, nodded slowly. "If that is my wife's wish, how can I say no?"

"Then come, Lorelei, you don't mind if I just call you Lorelei do you?" Sansa asked, smiling at the reborn Knight of the Lake. It was hard to believe this was the legendary knight of King Arthur's Round Table.

"Not at all," Lorelei acquiesced immediately. Her eyes darted only once to Arthur when he was looking at Lord Gwynn before coming back to Sansa.

"Good, I always did hate formalities. You can just call me Sansa, and I am sure Mordred would prefer it if addressed her in the same manner once the two of you are properly acquainted." Sansa smiled as she grabbed the older girl by the arm and walked out the room.

She heard Arya's footsteps a moment later, who had decided to be friendly to the girl after all. Still... what was with Archer's warning? "Winter is coming," She knew that much of course, but what she had seen in her dream world... it was unnerving to say the very least.

+++ Benjen- Beyond the Wall+++

Benjen Stark, First Ranger of the Night's Watch knelt down and picked up a small black piece of cloth. Several of his brothers nearby stopped and looked at the object curiously.

"Don't that belong to Royce?" One of the younger Night's Watch's younger rangers, a man from House Haigh, asked as he looked at the piece of black cloth. Like the rest of his party, they were all wearing thick black clothing with light mail armor under it.

"Aye, it might." Benjen replied as he looked at the cloth.

"Fresh tracks here milord." Bolin Frey spoke up, unlike most of his family members who still waited at the Crossing for old man Walder to die, Bolin decided to do something honorable with his life and joined the Night's Watch. There was actually a jape among the men that if Walder sent all of his sons up to the Wall, they would be able to man the other castles.

Benjen tucked the piece of cloth away and look over to where Bolin was standing. Looking at the way the brush was broken, he frowned; whoever walked this way had been sloppy, it couldn't have been Royce. The lad may have been a tad arrogant, but he wasn't an idiot. He wouldn't have left such an obvious trail in wildling country. No ranger would.

"Ben, I found Gared's sword!" a ranger waved a blade he found that belonged to another man from Royce's group.

Benjen took the sword and unsheathed it, finding it to be clean.

"The trail leads deeper into the woods," the ranger pointed in the general north direction. For some reason, the woods felt off to Benjen, and the other men also seemed sensed as much.

"Do we follow?" one asked.

"We are men of the Night's Watch," Benjen intoned and looked at all the rangers in disapproval, shaming them. "We fear nothing."

Nodding, some of them reluctant, the men ventured deeper into the woods. Some had their bows ready, others theirs swords out. What were they ready to defend against? No one could be sure, just that there was a sense of danger. There were nine men in all including Benjen himself, and they fanned out slowly, looking for signs of an entrapment.

However, the men could be only on guard for so long, and after two hours with nothing happening, the men grew somewhat used to the eerie calm.

"Damn, still nothing," the brother from House Haigh spat as he finally had enough of the silence.

"Keep your voice down!" Benjen rebuke the taller man who merely shrugged.

"Benjen," Bolin whispered and motioned that he spotted possible enemies. Three of the brothers nocked their bows while the rest drew their swords.

Benjen, as leader of the group, took lead and moved silently where he saw fire embers down by a makeshift camp. However, it was the back of a Night's Watchman they saw made them alert.

"Wilding ambush?" Bolin asked looking to his leader for answers.

Ben motions for two archers to go left, and protect their flank, one to go right, while the rest would go straight down the middle. Slowly he crept, making sure to use the trees as cover. He looked to the archers in the distance who shook their head to indicate there were no signs of any enemy.

The man from Haigh took point and was the first one in the makeshift camp looking around alertly. "Ser Royce?"

Benjen and Bolin looked at one another and knew that something felt off.

"Waymar?" the Haigh man grabbed the shoulders of the still Night Watch and turned it around to face him. Immediately he gasped and so did the other five men in the party. It was Ser Waymar but he was dead. His face was blue showing that it was the cold that took him not any Wilding.

"Damn, any signs of Gared?" Bolin shook his head and said as swift prayer for Waymar's soul. Freezing to death was a fate he wouldn't wish on anybody.

"Not that I caagghhh!"

The sudden shout by the Haigh man drew the men's attention to him, only to see that the dead Waymar was very much alive as he had put his sword through the brother's throat, at least that what they thought until Waymar looked at them with his icy blue eyes.

"By the Seven!" Bolin gasped as three distinct screams could be heard in the woods making the men all turn in a panic expecting attacks and finding none. The second they took their eyes off of Waymar however, he disappeared, further unnerving the men. To make matters worse, the temperature around them noticeably dropped.

"Th-th-the- the- the Others!" One of the men gibbered in fear as he turned left and right skittishly. However, that was when Ser Waymar rose from the ground and lobbed off his head before charging at Bolin.

"For the Night Watch!" Bolin let loose his cry before he locked blades with the wight that had been Waymar.

The other men who had been trying to move in on the dead Waymar was suddenly attack by walking skeletons. Benjen hesitated only for a second before he fought a skeletal warrior.

"Aggggh!" Bolin's death scream galvanized the remaining men to fight harder. However it was useless, though the skeletal warriors could be broken, they didn't die. And more wights like Waymar with flesh still hanging on their corpses came from the trees, some dressed like Night's Watch brothers, many more like Wildings.

Eventually, it was only Benjen left who raised his sword in a guarding stance while trying to cover all his angles even as the monsters closed in on him.

"I am the sword in the darkness," Benjen began to recite his oaths to strengthen his resolves in his final moments. "I am the watcher on the walls."

Suddenly the wights stopped and parted, and a different creature made itself known.

This one had a skeletal figure with pale white hair and skin, and was covered in armor made of obsidian. However what stood out the most to him were the glowing blue eyes of the being along with a spear made of ice. Benjen knew in that moment that the ancient enemy have returned and the Seven Kingdoms would freeze at their touch.

The White Walker slowly walked to the corpse of the Haigh man and touched his head. A moment later the nobleman rose, his face expressionless as he turned his blue eyes to Benjen.

"I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleeper," Benjen resumed his chant once more as the White Walker brought the rest of his men back to life one by one until all of them had been turned into its slaves. It was toying with Benjen, showing the First Ranger the fate that would await him, tormenting him with the knowledge that he would find no peace in death.

"I am the shield that guards the realms of men."

The Whitewalker stood just outside of the range of Benjen's blade and looked at him impassively.

"Well, what are you waiting for you whoreson? Come at me!" Benjen growled as he got into a ready stance. He knew he didn't have even the chance of surviving. The legends claimed that only dragonglass or weapons made from a dragon's fire could hurt the Others. Well, he might as well see how much there was in those old stories.

"Die~!"

Before Benjen could attack the armored being, a loud horn sounded, making the White Walker and all the wights' eyes looks up. The next thing he knew, the sky above them lit up as arrows alight with fire landed on the wights, killing many in seconds. Benjen pushed his way through the undead, careful to avoid catching fire himself, and dodged the next set of arrows falling from the sky.

"RARRAGGGHHH!"

The loud screams of the living lifted Benjen spirits. Somehow, against all odds, the Night's Watch had come to his rescue.

Coming out of hiding, he watched as weapons of fire struck the wights. What shocked the most however, was the attacking army was not Night's Watchman but instead, armored Wildings.

At the head of the procession was an armored man wielding a spear with a grace he had never seen before. Every time he struck a skeleton warrior, it shattered like kindling. Every time he ran his spear through a wight, the monster would stiffen and collapse before even he pulled his blade out.

Waymar and some of his dead brothers attacked the armored spearman, but with a grace he didn't think even a master spearman of Dorne possessed, the man killed all five with ease. The Whitewalker which had been looking at the man simply turned away and melted into the surroundings, while the wights were all slaughtered by the man forces.

"RAGGH!" a living wildling slashed his axe at Benjen's head. Falling back on his training, he ducked under the attack and slid his sword into the wildling easily. Pulling the blade free he block another incoming attack.

"Ugh!" Benjen groaned as the spear wielder threw his weapon through his leg.

The attacking wilding raised his axe and made eye contact with Benjen, but hesitated upon seeing that he was alive.

"Finish him Thenn, don't be shy! It's just a dead Crow!" a wildling jeer from the side.

The Thenn – a clan that should have been much further north of the Wall than this – lowered his axe and pointed to Benjen. "That Crow is still alive, his eyes are normal."

The spearman stepped slowly up to Benjen and yanked the spear out of his leg none too gently. "Well, well, Crow, what are ye doing so far north of de Wall?"

Benjen's eyes widened in surprise as the voice that came through the hooded figure was soft like a woman's. A moment later, the spearman her hood and mask to revealed a pretty feminine face with reddish brown eyes.

"I know yer in awe of my beauty, but really, answer de question won't ye?" the woman japed in amusement.

"I… was looking for my missing men." Benjen replied politely. However his replied only seem to make the woman laughed harder.

"So didja find yer men?" The spearwoman asked while keeping the blade of her weapon up against Benjen's throat.

The First Ranger's eyes flickered to the dead Night's Watchmen around him and saw the woman's eyes light up in understanding.

"Ah see... well, then Crow, what should I do with you now?" the woman asked looking quite vexxed as she folded her arms around her breastplate. "It's not my preferred way of doing things to go killing a man in cold blood."

"You could always let me go?" Benjen ventured hopefully but the men's and more than a few women's voices laughed all around him.

"Right, let yer fly home to warn all yer other Crow brothers that we're out here," the woman said in an amused tone as she leaned against the spear. "Ygritte, take a group and scout near de Wall, see if anyone comes looking for dis here Crow."

Benjen had hoped the woman wouldn't think about that particular information that he'd just gleamed. He saw the men around him; Wildings to be sure, but armored differently, more organized. And if the rumors of this new Queen Beyond the Wall were true, how many thousands of these people comprised her army?

"Tell me Crow," the woman spoke up making Benjen focus back on her. "If I was to tell you we would like to offer an alliance with yer Crows, help you guard de wall and in return, all we asked is to settle in the land call the Gift, what do yer think your mighty Lord Commander Crowmont would say?"

Benjen blinked at the Wilding woman's offer, he was not sure how Lord Mormont would take the news, but the Wildings' offering of an alliance instead of attacking first… Such a thing had simply never happened before, or even been discussed for that matter.

"I, I don't know to be honest. Though I can't imagine that such an alliance would be well-received by the Night's Watch or the free folk; we've been killing each other for thousands of years, so it's not like we're all going to become friends just because the people in charge told us to."

"Shame, but true. Looks like we'll have to take it by force then," the spear woman sighed a bit sadly. She turned to a man next to her and motioned her head to Benjen. "Bind his wounds, we're taking him back with us. The Queen can decide his fate if she wants."

A larger man went near Benjen and struck him hard on the back of his head with the flat of his axe, and Benjen Stark was swallowed by darkness.

*** Mordred- Harrenhal***

Mordred Pendragon, formerly Baratheon – though technically it should have been Waters – gazed at the massive feat of engineering taking place. Already a whole tower had been knocked down and the road she was traveling on was proof of how quickly the road builders have been working from morning to night for the past six months.

Looking around she saw fields of greens with several large erected glass structures for Sansa's "greenhouses". Though in Mordred's opinion, her sister-wife needed to at least paint the wooden beams green so it would actually fit its own name. The two months she'd spent in King's Landing have been enlightening, along with rooting out the last of Varys' spy network and making them her own. Unlike Varys, she did not treat the children she found with unnecessary cruelty and even made a fair deal so long as they served her well. She might even let Arthur know about them someday. Still, when they came to report to her, Sansa would feed them and- well-therein lied the trap: Sansa's food.

"I'll send some riders ahead to announce our arrival," Brienne spoke up before motioning to two of the Warrior's Maidens, who Mordred had simply named Number One and Number Two in her head.

"No," Mordred countermanded with a soft shake of her head. "No need. As my husband says, it's pointless to have everyone in the castle running around like chickens with their heads cut off each time one of us returns home. What's next, a parade whenever I wipe my ass?"

"P-Princess!" Brienne said in a scandalized tone before snapping at One and Two to get back into formation when she noticed them snickering.

"Is- is that the lady princess?!" a man who had been carting some wagon on the road stop and stared at Mordred. Immediately he bowed as did numerous other travelers on the road.

Mordred had to smile and motion for the people to stand up and go about their business. Already, she noticed her guards tensing up, looking for any signs of hostility. However, she knew the look in the people's eyes; it was one of utter adoration. The same looks that had upon a time once been endlessly showered upon her father and all the knights who sat with him at the Round Table. Even her… before her rebellion.

Mordred quickly shook such thoughts from her head. That was a different time, a different life.

"Continue what you were doing good man." Mordred smiled at the stranger who had announced her presence to the others on the road, and noticed his blush before he held his head higher and went back to work, invigorated.

"They love you, my lady," Brienne said in an awed voice.

"They love Arthur, and his wives with him." Mordred corrected with a tiny smile. After all if it was not for the changes enacted by her fa- husband, the people would be having much more difficult lives. Then there was Sansa crafting better farming tools that was being taught to the smiths of House Pendragon. It certainly served to make the common people's lives much better, especially that new stone grinder Sansa invented. No longer did bread taste like rocks half the time because of crushed bits of stone getting mixed into the batter. Now it was actual flour that the people were eating. Harrenhal now laid claim to the softest bread south of the Neck.

They traveled leisurely on the road for another hour when a band of riders could bee seen in the distance. Brienne and her guards tense immediately, however they relaxed upon seeing the banner of House Pendragon flying proudly.

The riders nearly passed by them but stopped upon seeing her. The riders were a good hundred in number, and to Mordred's pleasant surprise, wearing the new armor design that Sansa had come up with.

"My lady! You've returned!" the captain, a bearded fellow in his late thirties that Mordred remembered as one of the Lannister men that had accompanied her to Harrenhal, stopped his horse and lowered his head, as did the rest of the company.

As Mordred looked at the other riders and saw a few more faces she recognized, the princess slowly realized that these were all men who had once worn the Lannister red and gold. _And now they proudly wear the Pendragon blue and silver._ She thought with a smile, which quickly became a frown as she remembered a little something.

"Ah, Captain, I remember you. How good to see a familiar face. I also remember that you and the rest of this lot were supposed to be at my husband's side, cleansing the Western frontier of bandits. So why are you here instead?"

The captain's eyes lit up with surprise and just a hint of fear. "My lady… Lord Pendragon… he has already settled the matter. Most brutally and efficiently, if I may say so" the captain replied a thoughtful look on his face.

"He wiped them out already?" Mordred was surprised, but it quickly faded once she thought about it. A battle with her fa-... husband could only end in brutal bloodshed for the opposing side regardless of who they were, and that went tenfold for untrained, undisciplined bandits. Also, given Arthur's determination to wipe out any and all such scourges, it was really no surprise that he'd destroyed or chased them all out so quickly. At the Battle of Camlann she had outnumbered her father's forces five to one, and yet still her army had ended up utterly annihilated, just barely managing to take her father's army with them. Arthur, when he was Arturia, had killed so many of her forces singlehandedly that by the end her father had been standing on a literal hill of men by the time Mordred confronted her, which had eventually resulted in their mutual demise.

"Not quite…" the Lannister captain hesitantly explained. "He offered those that would bend the knee to him mercy and a chance to serve him... and simply destroyed those who didn't. Some of the men are… a bit concerned that they might prove treacherous, but thus far they have been very… compliant."

Mordred had to grin at the captain's comment. "You need not worry, my husband is an excellent judge of character. If he given those men a chance to serve him, they will do so loyally."

Though it wouldn't hurt to have a few of her newly acquired little birds to keep the occasional eye on them, just in case.

Then again, Arthur always had possessed an uncanny knack for judging a man's worth. Lancelot a wandering knight, Gawain, Bedivere, even the men who followed him had once fought against his claim to be ruler of all Britannia. However, now all of these men served her loyally as well. Her, who had once betrayed Arthur in the worst way possible and brought about the destruction of everything he built.

She saw the Lannister captain and some of his men breathe a bit more easily and nod in acceptance of her words. While Arthur was new to them, they had served her for years and knew Mordred. So if she vouched for Arthur, then that was good enough for them. In time though, they would see Arthur for the glorious ruler that he was with their own two eyes.

"So where are you off to now?" Mordred gazed directly at the assembled men.

"One of the neighboring towns near the Crown's Land has petitioned Lord Pendragon for assistance. Their own lord has apparently neglected to address the surge of bear attacks they've been suffering from recently, so Lord Pendragon has decided to send us to offer assistance.

Mordred nodded. "I see. And your new armor?" This prompted a Lannister man in the back to shout an answer.

"We have the honor of being the first group to wear this to represent House Pendragon!" the man stated proudly, with the others nodding their agreement.

"Well in that case, make sure not to bring shame upon my House then." Mordred ordered sternly and saw the man looked aghast at the very notion of doing so.

"We won't my lady!" the entire company roared as one.

Mordred waved her hand to motion them to go and after yet another bow, the captain spurred his horse and rode away from her party with his men following suit. With in a year, no, maybe two, this part of the Seven Kingdoms would almost be like a new Camelot. She looked to Brienne and saw the woman was looking at her own armor and back at the men. Brienne's armor was her father's and as such still had the Tarth sigil on it.

"Do not worry Brienne, you will soon receive your own personalized armor, similar to a Kingsguard's." Mordred assured her reliable guard, and saw the woman's eyes widen in disbelief.

"Truly?" Brienne asked in wonder.

"Yes, and like the Kingsguard, I will have seven warriors serving as my protectors, and you will serve as their commander. Mordred declared. "Sansa will have her own as well, and Arthur will tell his sister Daenerys to choose her own, though most likely hers will consist of Eagle's stock."

"Me... the commander of your personal guard, Princess?" Brienne looked as if she was about to faint, even some of the women behind Mordred were looking alarmed. As things were now, the princess had twenty personal guards serving her, but Mordred had just declared that she would be reducing that number down to seven, a symbolic number in the Seven Kingdoms to say the very least.

"You don't want the positions?" Mordred asked innocently. "I guess I can give the position to-"

"I would be honored!" Brienne shouted before blushing at her own outburst.

Mordred grinned and slowed her horse down to pat the other woman's shoulders. "Well, it won't happen for a while yet, perhaps when Daenerys gets here. Who knows, maybe Sansa or Daenerys might want you for themselves."

"I am yours my lady, until my dying breath." Brienne fervently replied.

"Oh? Not Arthur's? He knighted you after all." Mordred teased, knowing the woman had a crush on her Lord Husband.

"Th-that goes without saying..." Brienne answered, red in the face once again. Oh, Mordred just knew she was going to have so much _fun_ with this one!

"However unlike the celibate Kingsguard whose vows are taken for life, I have no intention of restricting my guards from perusing a life of their own outside of their duty." Mordred elaborated more on her plans that she and Sansa had already discussed in private. "Just make sure to train your replacement properly should you ever leave my service."

Brienne stayed silent before slowly nodding.

The group rode in silence for another half hour, seeing the road become crowded with more and more people as they approached the castle, almost all recognizing her on sight, and those who didn't easily learned from banner her guards were flying. It was when they entered the courtyard that she saw a lot of the men cease their training in order to bow to her.

"Princess Mordred!" Jory Cassel spoke up recognizing her immediately. "There was no word of your return!"

Jory glared at at the pages around him, trying to single out who could have bolloxed it all up.

"That's because I didn't send word. I, like my lord husband, find such pointless niceties tiresome and wasteful." Mordred stated before casually waving the man's scandalized look away.

"Mordred!"

Mordred turn around and got off her horse to greet her sister-wife, Sansa approaching. "Sansa! So good to see you again. Been keeping our husband's bed warm, I trust?"

Whatever Sansa had intended to say was completely forgotten as her face reddened enough for it to match her hair.

"M-Mordred..." Sansa let out a strained, shy tone.

"Well, it figures. With me gone, his male instinct would undoubtedly take over and he must have used you to sate them." Mordred verbally egged the flustered girl, who looked as if she was going to pass out from embarrassment. Deciding that that was enough for now, she hugged the younger girl.

"M-Mordred," Sansa embraced her quickly before breaking it and motioned to a beautiful woman standing to her right. "This is Lorelei Lake, our husband's newly arrived mistress."

_So this is Lancelot reborn..._ Mordred drew herself to her full height and began to stalk around the new girl, taking in her looks; nice top-heavy breasts that could give her mother's a run for her money; black hair that fell down in natural curls around her shoulders, framing her face; pert, ruby-red lips; crystal blue eyes with a hint of sadness to it… that one was sure to drive men mad trying to bring joy to them; nice slim hips and smooth silky unblemished skin on a flawless face.

Lorelei was the realm's ultimate ideal lady alright. An ideal lady who had just became a mistress to a newly appointed lord. Harrold Hardyng wouldn't let this go easily; Mordred knew from experience just how stubborn that man was.

"My lady," Lorelei smoothly bowed before Mordred, keeping her eyes looking down at the floor. Her posture, her stance… everything about her was simply perfect, annoyingly so to the princess. "Lady Sansa tells me I have you to thank for allowing me to serve Lord Pendragon."

Mordred's face took on a chagrined look; even the girl's _voice_ was perfect. If Mordred had not known this had been the mighty Lancelot in another life, she would have hated this girl with every fibre of her being. Still, now that she knew Lorelei was in fact Lancelot reincarnated, she would instead focus on what she enjoyed most: having some fun. After all, she had promised Gwynn her protection, not good behavior.

"And have you served our husband in any capacity yet, Lady Lorelei?"

"Princess?" Lorelei looked up in wide eye shocked blinking it prettily.

"Oh, who am I kidding, of course you have by now," Mordred said as she hooked her arm around Lorelei's. "Why, you must have taken Arthur's... _lance_ an awful _lot_ in order to keep him from feasting upon poor, Sansa here."

Lorelei began to hyperventilate before Mordred patted the other woman's arm as she tried to soothe her husband's mistress. "It's fine Lorelei. You have _done_ a very noble deed and allowed Sansa some time to sleep so that she can focus on all of her projects instead being constantly ravished by our lord husband."

"I… I haven't-" Lorelei began as she got her breathing under control.

"Goodness, you mean you haven't been... _eaten_ by the dragon yet?" Mordred eyes twinkled in amusement as she saw Lorelei slowly realize what she was hinting at and blushed even deeper.

"I don't think that Lord Pendragon… would do something so improper." Lorelei squeaked.

"Oh? Then you haven't been told?" Mordred smirked at the girl and looked to Sansa who's face was also red. "You haven't told her how the dragon ate us both on our wedding nights?"

"M-Mordred!" Sansa blushed hotly and turned away from Lorelei's disbelieving gaze.

"Oh yes, our husband is _quite_ the beast in bed," Mordred bragged seeing Lorelei's eyes had yet to relax when she saw Sansa's reaction. "Why he's was so brutal I don't even really remember what he DID to me the night he claimed my maidenhead, and neither does Sansa."

"Surely… you couldn't have forgotten everything." Lorelei wondered, looking back and forth between the two sister-wives.

Mordred made a great show of being knowledgeable about this particular topic, but in truth she didn't remember much at all. However she had heard plenty of gossip from the Red Keep's maids as well as Harrenhal's that Arthur was quite... gifted.

"The only thing I do remember is that he was this big. Can you _imagine_ trying to fit that monster inside you?" She held out her hand exaggeratedly and saw Lancelot reborn gape in incredulity.

"A-actually, you're off by a bit," Sansa blushed and took Mordred hand and extended them just a little bit more.

Mordred's eyes widened and looked at the picture Sansa has given her. By the Seven! That thing had been inside of her?!

The three girls stared at Mordred's spaced-apart hands. The two sister-wives both recollecting their wedding nights, but Mordred was mostly just happy to see that she had gotten the prim and perfect Lady Lorelei Lake flustered. Her husband was going to split the poor girl in half... Maybe she actually would have been better off with Harrold Hardyng.

"Mordred."

Hearing her husband's voice, Mordred turned around and was struck dumb by what she saw. It was as if she was once again Sir Mordred and was meeting the High King of Britannia for the first time all over again. Silver polished armor, blue padded clothing underneath, and a confident, utterly majestic aura about him as he simply stood there staring at her, assessing her worth.

The superimposed image was gone when Arthur moved again. Arthur Pendragon, formerly Targaryen, moved toward her with great strides and before she knew it, he had grabbed her by the waist and hugged her close to him, nuzzling his face in her hair.

"Your presence has been sorely missed, dear wife." Arthur murmured softly, his words for Mordred's ears alone, bringing a furious blush to her cheeks.

"We-well, I… I'm glad the armor fit you well, husband." Mordred replied, somewhat startled by the simple fact that Arthur had not released her from his gentle embrace.

"Yes, well I wanted to greet you in this armor," Arthur finally let her go, though she sensed that he was a bit reluctant to do so. "A little bird told me you'd like it."

Mordred turn to see Sansa grinning at her and promised she'd pay the girl back somehow. That had been told to her in confidence!

"Well Husband, I do qui-mmmphhh~~~~~!?" Mordred had started to reply but Arthur had silenced her by capturing her lips. There were loud cheers from the men in the yard including a lot of hooting and whistling.

Surprise gave way to contentment as Mordred melted into his kiss before he broke it, leaving her slightly dazed. Was that a dragon she saw in the distance?

"Welcome home, wife." Arthur greeted her with a gentle look.

For the first time since leaving Harrenhal, Mordred was struck silent. No clever comebacks, no sly remarks. Only leaning slightly against Arthur's armor and enjoying the feel of his arms around her.

"I do believe the dragon got the princess' tongue in that last kiss." An amused voice struggled to japed amidst the speaker's fits of laughter. A statement that had everyone within earshot erupt in complete hilarity, with even Lady Lorelei softly holding a hand over her mouth to carefully conceal a giggle.

Okay, that was it. Forget everything else she'd been planning. Mordred was going to kill Gwynn.

Slowly.

TBC

AN: :D So I got a bit stalled on the tracks! Sue me! But ^_^ Thanks to all of those that gave wonderful feedback and support for this fic ^_^. I appreciate it! This chapter might have taken a long time but got hit with the triple whammy. Work, Life and bills! Muwhaha. Yes so :D It's been kinda like that. Again glad for those that left a review, you guys give me that vitamin to crank out yet another chapter!

As always C+C welcome reviews appreciated!


	17. Book 2: Chapter 6

Game of Thrones belong to G.R.R.M

Fate Stay Night belong to Type Moon

A Great thanks to Deus and Paragon for editing this!They worked hard on this and I kept some of their suggestions on tone :D

A Throne Nobody Wants

Book 2: Chapter 6

+++ Daenerys- Westeros+++

Daenerys Stormborn Targaryen Pendragon looked on as the harbor town known as Maidenpool drew ever closer. She hadn't believed it when they said the castle of Maidenpool was made up of pink stones but there it was; pink as fine as any lady's cloths.

"Looks like they are sending out a welcoming party," Captain Belidos's amused tone carried over the rest of the ships, making the rest of the Eagles chuckle.

Daenerys allowed herself a smile as she looked at the flurry of activity by the docks. Hundreds of people were fleeing towards the castle while armored soldiers were making their way to the bay. She couldn't blame them, from their prospective, it must look as if she was bringing an invasion fleet.

The majority of the people she sent over the last year were craftsman's, civilians and family members of the Sellsword companies that have now come to serve Arthur.

_'Brother... I wonder if you'd even recognize me after all this time?' _

Captain Belidos and several of the women that now attended her – all wives of the sellsword men – had said that she had gone through a growth spurt. She had gotten taller, her breast were now fuller, she no longer retained that childish look but instead looked to be a young woman in bloom. She let her fine, silvery hair fly free to whip in the winds rather than braiding it as her brother had always done for her. Only little girls braided their hair, she was now a woman.

"Signal the other ships to stop," Daenerys ordered and did not even need to turn around to know that Captain Belidos was already delegating the task to someone else. "We will go ahead and meet the _hospitable_ lord of Maidenpool."

Slowly, Daenerys' lone ship broke from the fleet of fifty as the other forty-nine slowed down to half pace.

"Oh, and tell the men they can fly the Pendragon banners now." Soon afterward, Daenerys smiled as she heard the twang of an arrow behind her and knew that all fifty ships were now flying the blue banner of her new House. She could feel the sense of surprise from the docks as the soldiers that had been preparing for an attack now looked at one another in confusion.

Daenerys watched as the docks got closer and made out a flag with a red fish on it. House Mooton if she recalled correctly. Finally they closed in on the docks and made out a fleshy, pale looking man, looking incredibly nervous and often shooting glances at her fleet in the distance.

The moment the ship entered the closest bay, dozens of Eagles jumped from the ships to helped anchor it, while the rest began to look at the Westerosi men, wary of any signs of attack.

With the area secured, Captain Belidos was the first to walk down the extend plank onto the dock and signalled for Daenerys to follow. On the ships, over two dozens Eagles and Stormcrows had their arrows nocked for any signs of trouble.

Disembarking slowly, she heard the muttering of men from Maidenpool even in the distance. After all, she was wearing a nice light blue and white dress, but armored with a sliver cuirass that was designed to look feminine.

Walking ahead, she was flanked by Daario Naharis of the Stormcrows and Captain Belidos of the Eagle's Brood. She saw the pale fleshy man dismount from his horse, flanked by two other men, little more than boys really, though perhaps a bit older than her. She noted that their eyes were roaming up and down her body and felt pleased.

"Y-You fly House Pendragon's colors?" the pale man stammered as if not quite sure until he really got a good look at her. "Y-you also have silver hair and violet eyes, you can- can't be-"

Daenerys sighed at the man's stutter and mimicked her brother's own lordly demeanor. "I am Daenerys Stormborn Targaryen Pendragon. You are Lord William Mooton of Maidenpool?"

The man, apparently remembering just who he was, drew himself up to his full height. "I am, my lady. To think a dragon would grace us after so long... you honor us with your presence."

"The honor is mine," Daenerys replied and gave a nod, scandalizing the man. It was then she remembered, things were different here in Westeros. "Forgive me if I offend you in any way, I was raise in Essos and am not well versed in the courtly etiquettes of Westeros."

To add to the effect, Daenerys batted her eyelashes and looked wrought with herself. The effect was instantaneous as all three men's expressions turned chagrin.

"No! The fault is ours for not realizing," the Lord of Maidenpool chivalrously shouldered the blame.

Daenerys smiled happily and saw that all three men blushed. Just like she was taught, a woman's greatest weapon was her beauty, a weapon she had honed over the past year to wield against her brother.

"My lady forgive me, I don't mean to be discourteous, but surely they can't all be of House Pendragon," Lord Mooton gestured at the fleet in the distance.

"They are," Daenerys confirmed and saw the uneasy looks from the Lord. "However, be assured that we will be marching straight for Harrenhal, and you have my word that they will not cause any trouble."

The man had looked relieved by her answer.

"Although, there might be something else we could do for you," Daenerys began the next phase of her plans. Already, several of the free cities merchants had signed on with her deal, trusting in Arthur's reputation, which had spread far and wide indeed.

"Oh and what is that my lady?" William asked as he watched one of Captain Belidos' men signal the other ships to be began anchoring.

"Well, you see, while the men would be disembarked here, we still have fifty ships of the Pendragon Navy that would make their way back to Volantis and Pentos to escort merchant ships and protect them from the pirates, you understand."

Lord William nodded showing that he did.

"Those ships would have a lot of space afterward when our forces disembark and, well, I do believe Maidenpool is a busy port, not all items get to be exported due to price negations correct?"

Lord William nodded once more.

"Like I said, those ships would be empty and rather than paying a merchant to carry your exported goods, well, House Pendragon could probably do it for half that price."

Lord William looked to his sons with a stunned expression.

"Of course, if you build up a good relationship with your merchants ships, then, forget I sai-"

"My lady!" the lord looked at Daenerys with greedy eyes now. "I do believe we would be more than able work out something of that effect."

"Well, you will have to discuss the details with our admiral," Daenerys smiled and saw the man begin to no longer look at the ship with worry, but with eagerness. As she had guessed, the men in Westeros was just as greedy as the men in Essos.

"Are you sure you want to make for Harrenhal right away? It is quite a journey, especially right after crossing the Narrow Sea. Perhaps some rest would be better?" Lord William offered as if he suddenly remembered to be courteous to his guest.

"No." Daenerys' smile was the same, but this time there was a bit of force behind her words. "I have been away from my beloved brother far too long as it is. As soon as my men disembark, we march."

"Of course my lady, I wish you a safe journey," Lord William courteously replied.

"RAAGGGHHH!" Three loud roar sounded in the distance.

"W-what was that?!" Lord William at the sound that came from the ships as three large cover wooden boxes was being unloaded.

Danerys smiled and waved off the man. "Oh just some exotics... pets I got from Volantis, I couldn't bring them with me until they were a bit older."

"B-By the Sevens Lady Daenerys, they sound dreadfully frightful!" Lord William laughed nervously and his two son joined him.

"Yes, but only to my enemies. Rest assured that they are under control." Daenerys grinned as she watched the rest of the ship pulled into empty harbors.

In a way, Daenerys was sad, her life in Essos was over. But she had always wanted to see Westeros and more importantly, she was still together with her brother.

+++ Three weeks later- Harrenhal+++

Daenerys blinked at the huge stone structure in the distance, wearing a simple cream color dress, she decided to forgo armor now that she was among her own men. Many of the men gasped at the sight, for while they had seen wonders aplenty like the Titans of Braavos or the pyramids of Meereen, the stone structure before them was simply massive in scale.

"From what I understand there should be five towers should there not?" Daario, the handsome leader of the Stormcrows asked. "I count only four. Well, three and a half."

"Riders up ahead, they are wearing Pendragon colors," Captain Belidos pointed out as some of the men got into battle formation just in case it was an ambushed.

The riders were two hundred in total and wearing a sturdy looking armor, all uniformed, with blue cloaked behind their backs.

"Halt! Identify yourselves!" the man, a Westerosi judging by his looks, demanded suspiciously. He saw the Pendragon banners the sellswords were flying and was surprise and a bit alarmed by their numbers.

Captain Belidos, however, was not cowed. In fact, he was angry. "How DARE you talk to your lady like that? Do you not know who this is?!"

The man blinked and looked over to Daenerys, only to widen his eyes in surprise and disbelief. "Y- You can't be, L-lord Pendragon's first wife?"

Daenerys smiled after putting a hand on Belidos's shoulders to tell him to ease off. "I believe my brother has been expecting me, has he not?"

"Ah- w-we have," the Knight immediately dismounted and bowed with his knee in the dirt. "Edward Waters at your service, my lady!"

The other group of the patrol looked alarmed but they also dismounted and knelt. Daenerys smiled and saw Captain Belidos' pleased look.

"No need for such formalities, rise." Daenerys motioned and saw the other men walk up.

"If you don't mind me asking, Lady Daenerys, just how many men are with you?" Edward finally got a really good look at the stream of men on the road.

"A little under eight thousand," Daenerys replied lightly and saw the man eyes widen a bit. "These are Arthur's most loyal men, the Eagle's Brood, along with four other sellsword companies; the Stormcrows; the Sunrocks; the Screaming Dothrak; and the Moon Spears."

The Knight Edward look at the men and nodded to them in respect. "Then, I do believe I have the honor of welcoming you all to Harrenhal, I shall notified Lord Pendra-"

"No, I would like to surprise my brother," Daenerys replied with a bit of mischievous glee. "Please escort us to our new home won't you?"

The man nodded and pounded his plated fist to his chest. "Men! We are escorting the formerly exiled Princess Daenerys Targaryen, now Pendragon, don't disgrace yourself!"

"HOOAH!" the two hundred men banged their chest plate with a shout before they got into formation at the head of Daenerys party.

"Company! March!" Edward shouted as the men on horseback began to ride in unison.

"That whoreson!" Captain Belidos laughed joyously as soon as the riders were out of hearing range.

"What is it Captain?" Daenerys asked as she beheld the men of HER House.

"Lord Pendragon has incorporated some of the Eagles' training into these men," Belidos snickered, looking oddly pleased.

Daenerys smiled as she was a bit worried that her brother had discarded everything from his life in Essos, but it seems he still remembered his roots.

The march towards the massive stone structure took another hour. Amazingly enough, they came across a road system similar to the ones in Valyria shortly after their march resumed. Though it was narrower than its Essosi counterpart, it was quite sturdy. Many of the workers who had been working on the road stop to look at Daenerys' procession with great interest.

Finally they were at the front gates where several hundred men stood alert. It was one man in particular who did a double take and let out an ear splitting roar.

"What in the fucking Burning God's name? CAPTAIN BELIDOS! You finally got your lazy ass here!"

"Seroah! Where are you, you fucking Dothraki cunt?!" Belidos roared in replied before an armored man in Pendragon blues stepped forward from the group of armed men and smiled cheekily. Suddenly the two clasped each other on their arm and smiled.

"Look at you, dressing all fancy like a proper Westerosi!"

"Fuck you, Captain." Seroah replied without guile before his eyes went to Daenerys. He quickly turned back around to scream at a page. "You there! Tell Lady Mordred and the others that Lady Daenerys is here!"

"Where is my brother?" Daenerys, who had been indulgent up to now, brought up the subject most dear to her heart.

"Out on patrol Dana- no I mean, Lady Daenerys," Seroah corrected himself. He had been a good friend to Arthur and one that Daenerys counted among her own as well. She saw him give her an apologetic look. "He'll be back shortly I believe."

Daenerys frowned. "Doesn't he have men to do that for him?"

"He does, but you know your brother Da- my lady," the giant Dothraki man replied with a shake of his head. "He prefers that personal touch."

"Yes, I remember." Daenerys smiled fondly. Her brother still lived by the philosophy he taught her.

"Alright you fuckers, I know you are probably tired," Seroah shouted at the sellsword men, many who knew him returned rude gestures back. "So I am gonna have some men show you were to bunk! Raszi! Where are you?!"

A dark Essosi man walked out and hurriedly nodded as Seroah gave him orders on who should go where for now.

"I am Lady Daenerys' personal guard, I go where she goes," Daario commented even as his Stormcrows were ushered off.

"As am I," Belidos replied to a stunned looking Seroah.

"What?! You can't be! What are you saying Captain?" the Dothraki said in confused tone.

Belidos smiled and place his hand on the man shoulders. "I am no longer Captain of the Eagles, Seroah, I am simply one of Arthur's men now."

"Wh-? But, this post, you were suppose to relieve me of it once you got here!" Seroah spoke up his face beginning to pale.

"I wouldn't even know where to begin. You on the other hand have been here for the better part of a year. These Westerosi men know you, unlike me." Belidos grinned at his stunned former subordinate.

"You fucking whoreson! You set me up!" Seroah raged as he started to curse the very stars. "'Go over there and be diplomatic' you say! 'I'll come and take over once I get there' you say! You lying fucker!"

Belidos, former captain of the Eagle's Brood, merely shrugged his shoulders but did not leave Daenerys' side. After another full minute of cursing, the large tanned man stopped and looked apologetically at the Lady of Harrenhal.

"Sorry Dana, or is it Dany now?" Seorah teased but Daenerys let it pass. "Anyway, we had your room ready since the day we came here, Arthur insisted upon it."

Daenerys blinked. "Really?"

"Aye, and he had two handmaidens ready for you too, those girls had been waiting for you to arrive for almost a year now," Seroah informed her.

Daenerys couldn't help but be moved by her brother gestured. She lost her servants in the fires and some of her most trusted Unsullied body guards. However, Captain Belidos did buy her several dozen new unsullied guards without her knowledge. As such, she had no idea if she should use them, seeing that slavery was outlawed in Westeros.

Suddenly two girls approached with excited looks in their eyes. One was a pretty girl of four and ten, the other was a bit older, probably six and ten, and were both dark haired wearing simple dresses. The two took one glance at Daenerys and hurriedly knelt before her.

"Lady Daenerys, I am Rose and this is my sister Lillian," the eldest one spoke and motioned to her sister. "We have been waiting for your arrival with great anticipation."

Seroah gestured to the girls. "And may I introduce to you your handmaidens."

"Rise," Daenerys commanded and saw the girls got to their feet but kept their head bowed, though the younger one kept sneaking peeks at her. "Well, you can start by showing me to my quarters. Are they close to my brother's?"

The two girls looked at each other but nodded. "You are down the hall from Lord Pendragon's quarters."

Daenerys had to smile at that; her brother kept her close. Was it any wonder that she loved him more with each passing day?

"Well, I imagine I do not look like a proper Westerosi lady at the moment. Perhaps you two could help me with that?" Daenerys suggested and saw the two girls nodded excitedly.

"My lady, you are prettier than most of the highborn ladies we had served before and seen in King's Landing," Rose answered honestly.

"Oh?" Daenerys felt pleased with their compliment. "Do you think I am prettier than Arthur's other wives?"

Daenerys had expected an affirmative but she saw the two girls suddenly begin to look uncomfortable, which caused her to feel more than a bit alarmed. She was considered the greatest beauty in Volantis, if not all of Essos by the time she left... were these girls better?

"They are prettier than me?"

"No!" Rose and Lillian said immediately with conviction, once more surprising Daenerys. It was Rose who looked uncomfortable but she struggled to find the right words. "It's merely... difficult to judge, my lady..."

"Ah, lay off the girl," Seroah came to the handmaiden rescue. "Even I, who always thought you were the prettiest thing I came across in Essos, have a hard time deciding who's the prettiest between you four."

Daenerys frowned. "Four?"

Seroah eyes suddenly turned wild and coughed lightly into his hand though he did looked a bit nervous. "O-oh, Arthur didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what, Seroah?" Daenerys asked in a soft tone and was reward by beads of sweat forming on the large man head.

"Er... which of Arthur's women do you already know about?" Seroah began diplomatically while the two handmaidens looked like they wanted to be anywhere but there.

"The Baratheon and Stark girls," Daenerys said in a flat even tone. "Who else is there?"

"Eh..." Seroah coughed a bit more before he tugged at his breastplate. " Ju-just one other, a mistress really. A girl from some place called the Vale. Pretty little thing too."

"...What?" Daenerys asked as if not hearing it correctly. Her brother took a mistress? "Did he win her in combat like he did the Baratheon and Stark?"

"W-WELL! Would you look at that!" Seroah said exaggeratedly as he looked behind the silver haired girl. "Lady Mordred! Lady Sansa! May I introduced you two to Arthur's sister, Daenerys?!"

Daenerys turned to where Seroah was looking and had to reign in her jealousy. Standing in the walk way were two girls. One with blonde hair as bright as the sun, emerald-like eyes, a slim figure, looking lovely dressed in Pendragon blue. The other had hair as red as fire, was tall for her age, had a larger bust than the blonde, and unlike other redheads there were no freckles on her flawless face. She was also wearing a light powder blue dress.

No wonder her handmaidens were unable to acknowledge her as the greater beauty. It was a tough choice; even she was having a hard time deciding who was the prettiest between the blonde and redhead.

"Ah, Lady Daenerys," the Redhead was the first to speak up as she took a step toward her. "Welc-"

However, the blonde's arm shot out and grabbed her by her shoulder. The redhead looked at her companion in confusion, who merely shook head with an exasperated look before she turned her focus onto Daenerys.

"Lady Daenerys Stormborn Targaryen Pendragon, I presume?" the Blonde spoke up first before she motioned to herself and her companion. "I am Mordred Baratheon Pendragon, and this is Sansa Stark Pendragon. Though I am sure you were already aware of that."

"Where's the fourth?" Daenerys asked and saw the blonde sigh before motioning to someone standing in the corner of the dark corridors. Once more, Daenerys was in awe as a black haired beauty with curling tresses, smooth ivory snow white skin, and a curvy figure presented herself hesitantly with a curtsey.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, My Lady Daenerys. I am Lorelei Lake of the Vale," the dark hair girl voice came out softly and elegantly.

_'Brother _**dear**_, you certainly do have an eye for beauties...'_

Daenerys turned to look at Daario and Belidos, whose eyes continuously shifted among the three beauties.

It was the blonde, Mordred, who motioned for the dark hair girl to rise before turning to Daenerys. "Harrenhal is finally complete, now that its lady has arrived."

Daenerys saw the redhead's eyes widen and looked sharply at the blonde. Something significant just happened.

"Forgive me, but I was raised in Essos, I am unfamiliar with your gesture judging by your companion's reaction," Daenerys told the blonde bluntly and was rewarded with an uncertain look from the Baratheon girl.

It was the dark hair girl, Lorelei, who spoke up first. "My Lady Mordred has named you as the Lady of Harrenhal."

Mordred looked to the dark haired girl and glared at her, the girl simply bowed her head and did not look up from her submissive position.

"Why is that a significant gesture?" Daenerys asked the dark haired beauty, ignoring the redhead and blonde for now.

"It is because there is usually only one Lady of any House," Lorelei began but still kept her head bowed. "By rights, because Lord Pendragon has three wives, all three of you should bear the title Lady of Harrenhal and thus share the power that comes with it amongst one another, but Lady Mordred just named you the sole bearer of the title. Meaning you have complete control over Harrenhal whenever its lord is absent."

Daenerys thinned her lips and had to admit it did sound impressive. "What kind of power do I have as Lady of Harrenhal?"

Lorelei looked up at her as if she could not believe the question asked. "Lady Daenerys, when Lord Arthur is away, you have the same power he does. When he is here, you manage the estate. For example, if you wanted all the servants to start painting this castle yellow, they would do so."

"So I can call upon Arthur's men to fight for me if he's bed ridden?" Daenerys asked with fascination and saw the dark hair girl nodded in affirmation.

"And if we shared the title that means she could have overturned my command."

"That is correct, Lady Daenerys," Lorelei confirmed yet again.

Daenerys looked over to the blonde Baratheon. She was the combination of two of the most vile Houses she knew, Baratheon and Lannisters. One killed her niece and nephew in cold blood, the other tore down her father's kingdom and slew her eldest brother.

"What are you hoping to gain from this gesture?" Daenerys asked curiously at the blonde who was half glaring at the girl from the Vale.

"I want peace in Arthur's house," Mordred answered. "I'd rather not have infighting amongst our own family. I want House Pendragon to be the strongest House in all of Westeros."

Daenerys widened her eyes, stunned, but narrowed it suspiciously. "Even over your vaunted Baratheon and Lannisters?"

"Yes."

Mordred's answer was one of surprise to Daenerys. "Why? Why would you be more loyal to my brother than your own family? You hardly know him."

However, Mordred simply blushed and looked away. "My reasons are my own, save to say, I am of House Pendragon and therefor that is where my loyalty lies."

Daenerys noticed the dark hair girl take on a sad look while the red head was looking at her friend in amazement. She had been expecting an arrogant monster, prepared to fight the daughter from the Houses of traitors. After all, if it happened once, who's to say it couldn't happen again. But this was the daughter of the Houses that toppled her family? So humble?

"And what about you?" Daenerys turned to the redhead who looked startled when she was addressed.

"I- I'll follow Mordred's lead, if she wishes to give up her power over Harrenhal, then I will also." the redhead girl said with conviction. "You can have it."

Mordred looked at the Stark girl in approval laced with mild shock before looking back at Daenerys.

"So you are also loyal to my brother?" Daenerys asked, looking for any break in mummer's act.

Sansa face suddenly softened before she nodded. "I will always be a Stark but I am first and foremost a Pendragon now. I want peace and prosperity for House Pendragon."

Daenerys had not been expecting this, not at all. All of her mental preparation, all her research… for nothing. She would not have to fight to remain by her brother's side. But still...

"You do not find it revolting that he is bedding his sister by blood?"

Westerosi culture frowned greatly upon brother and sisters bedding one another. Daenerys was looking for disgust or revulsion, what she found instead was resignation.

"You two _are_ Targaryens," Mordred answered, and her friend nodded in agreement.

Mordred did not say anymore, making Daenerys ponder the girl's strange acceptance. "What if we had not been Targaryens?"

"... I do not know," Mordred replied.

"Do you take me for a fool?" Daenerys asked as she straightened herself. "Now give me a real answer."

Mordred shrugged before she said, " ... I'd probably have allowed it."

"Truly?" Daenerys asked.

"Well... it's Arthur..." Mordred shifted a bit uncomfortably before she grabbed Lorelei and pushed the other woman forward. The hint was clear, she had allowed Arthur a mistress, most wives would not, Daenerys barely tolerated it herself.

Daenerys eyed the blushing woman who tried to move back to where she had been, only to be blocked by Mordred before she said, "So, if Arthur murdered someone, you'd be fine with it?"

Mordred head shot up in alarm extremely fast and looked seriously at Daenerys' as she fiercly declared "You can't prove it was murder. Clegane attacked him first and I can take care of-uh, I mean, any court would find him innocent!"

"W-what are you talking about?" Daenerys asked taken aback by the girl sudden change in attitude.

"I have witnesses who'd testified that it was Clegane who charged Arthur first." Mordred said as her glare bored into Daenerys's eyes and into her soul. "You. Can't. Prove. Anything."

"Uh…" Daenerys said as she took a step back from the Baratheon girl intensity.

Sansa cleared her throat, and the two women looked at her as she said, "Ahem- Mordred, It was ruled by your father, the King, as an honor debt and trial by combat, remember? Our husband has been acquitted of all charges."

Mordred looked relieved and muttered about how Sansa was such a great asset to House Pendragon.

Daenerys blinked a few times before she straightened herself out and said, "Alright, but Arthur is only half of the equation of this relationship. You're truly fine with me being with my brother?"

Mordred rolled her eyes as she said, "Every woman in the Seven Kingdoms, and probably Essos, who's met Arthur, from the, _esteemed_ highborn ladies of my father's court, to the lowest comonfolk wenches – with the possible exception of Sansa's mother – wishes that Arthur would sweep her of her feet, take her to his bed, and impale her with his lance. A lot."

Lorelei made some choking noises that drew Daenerys's attention but she dismissed it as unimportant for now.

"How can I blame you for wanting – and getting – what every other woman in the realm wants?" Mordred reasoned much to a surprised Daenerys.

Daenerys ignored Lorelei's crimson blush as she said, "You mean that?"

"Oh yes, he is very desirable. Why, the womenfolk of this land would tear the kingdom apart with their passion if left uncheck," Mordred said with a smirk as she glanced at Lorelei.

"No, I meant the part where you're fine with me being with Arthur," Daenerys said with a frown.

Mordred shrugged before she said, "All I want is to see Arthur rule and House Pendragon thrive."

Daenerys blinked at the blonde answers, the girl had put Arthur first over House Pendragon, that was when it struck her.

"You love Arthur."

Mordred had a stunned look on her face before it took on a rosy hue. Daenerys was about to question the girl some more when the person she loved the most made his presence known.

"Dany!"

Daenerys Stormborn Targaryen Pendragon turned to the sound of the familiar voice and was staggered by the vision before her. Her brother was different from how she remembered him. His long hair was cut to look more boyish though he was still beardless. He was in armor that was not the black she'd grown used to seeing him in, but impressive, elegant looking silver. All along the exposed parts of his body was blue clothing. He was even more handsome than she remembered. She had always thought her brother's color was black like House Targaryen, but she was wrong, her brother belonged in silver and blue.

"Arthur!" Daenerys cried out in pure joy as she ran to him and threw herself into his arms, knowing that he would catch her for certain. He fulfilled her expectation and lifted her up and spun her around.

"Look at you! You're grown even taller and prettier than I remember!" Arthur smiled widely at her with real affection. His violet eyes had that soft look that he always reserved for her. Despite her confident demeanor, she felt as if she was a child again under his compliment.

However, when Arthur drew her in for a soft kiss on her cheek, Daenerys blushed a rosy hue and any confidence she had to enact her plans to claim him was thrown to the wind.

"D-Did I really get prettier?" Daenerys asked in a soft small voice, the whole world at the moment only contain her and her brother. "You are not just saying that?"

"You are the most beautiful woman in all of Essos, of that I have no doubt." Arthur replied with a smile. "It is your bad luck that you married me, otherwise men would have beggared themselves trying to win your hand... Speaking of which, are you sure you don't want to-"

"NO!" Daenerys shouted loudly and glared at her brother. How dare he suggested annulling their marriage now? Arthur's face took on a chagrined look before he slumped his shoulders in resignation.

Arthur set her down gently and gave her yet another kiss on her forehead, or he tried to before she pulled him lower and capture his lips with her own, making sure all those present in the courtyard witnessed it. This way, there could be no doubt that Arthur and her were married. She felt her brother try to move her away but she had had time to practice her vice like grip.

Finally Daenerys let a red faced Arthur go, who immediately looked to his other wives. She narrowed her eyes and looked to the girls who seem to be red face and looking away.

"D-Daenerys, that is-"

"Completely appropriate to do with your wife." Daenerys firmly declared and saw her proud brother drew himself up to his full height and sigh.

"Come then, _wife_," Arthur tone became gentler and he walked next to her. "Have you been properly introduced to my other- err- your sister-wives?"

"I have," Daenerys replied curtly before she look at her brother and smiled. "Still, I see you have done well without me by your side."

"I had help from my new wives," Arthur smiled and did not see Daenerys' look of jealousy. He gestured over to Mordred. "Without Mordred, the castle and it's land would not be running as smooth as it has been. She has a gift for bureaucracy that, quite frankly, leaves me in awe."

The blonde in question simply blushed at Arthur's compliment.

"And without Lady Sansa unique ideas, we would not have the armors and weapons being produced at such a fast pace, not to mention the food stored for the upcoming winter," Arthur dipped his head at the redhead, who, like Mordred, also redden at the compliment.

"All of that would be meaningless without Lord Arthur diligent protection," Lorelei spoke up and Daenerys saw the other two girls nod in agreement.

Daenerys was grudgingly starting to accept that there might be more to the other two girls themselves. Still, she was not without gifts her own.

"Well, I see that Mordred and Sansa have done an excellent job in contributing to Harrenhal's restoration." Daenerys sighed and saw her brother looked at her worriedly.

"Dany, you don-"

"Brother, can I have that tower over there?" Daenerys cut off her brother pointing to one of the massive nearby stone structure.

Arthur blinked before looking at his sister strangely. "Whatever reason could you want it for?"

"I would like to repair it a bit for my own use," Daenerys said lightly.

"Why do you need a whole tower?" Arthur asked looking at the massive tower nearby.

Daenerys put a hand to her mouth and let loose a loud whistle, startling everyone except for Belidos and Darrio.

"Because I need a Dragon's Roost, Brother."

"What do you me- my god!" Arthur began and Daenerys smiled in glee as everyone in the Courtyard including her sister-wives eyes widened.

"RAAGGGHHHHHH!" Three distinctive roars could be heard, making everyone look up, their eyes a mix of fear and caution.

"What in the gods names?!"

"Is that- it can't be!"

"D-Dragons?!"

Daenerys smiled as her three children circled once around the courtyard, making the men on the wall incredibly nervous, before flying down to their mother.

Viserion, the cream color dragon, extended his head and began to nuzzle her. Rhaellion and Rhaenyion were only seconds behind their sibling as they too nuzzled her. They were about the size of a small mare now. She felt Rhaellion insistently nuzzled her shoulder and stroked his green scales, eliciting pleased purrs from her child.

Daenerys was quite pleased with the reactions of Arthur's other wives. The Baratheon girl had a wide-eyed expression of shock while the Stark girl showed genuine awe and amazement. The Vale girl just appeared stunned and did not appear to be breathing as the dragons looked all around them. However, none of them compared to her brother's look of wonder as he stepped forward, even as most of the men, including Seroah, stepped back.

"The eggs hatched?" Arthur asked as he patted his leg, and to Daenerys' and everyone else's amazement, the three dragons went over to Arthur. They sniffed his body, hair, and armor, Rhaenyion even licked his cheek him before nuzzling him affectionately.

"There were... _circumstances_ to how they hatched, but yes, they did," Daenerys' eyes were now staring at her brother in mild shock. Why had her children taken to her brother like that? How was her brother able to know about their favorite spot under their chin. Why was Rhaellion already belly up in submission to Arthur!

"What are their names?" Arthur smiled as he put his plated hand – much to everyone's horror – _inside_ the dragon's mouth and let it clamp lightly on it before the creature playfully tugged at it.

"Uhh... brother..." Daenerys gulped at seeing how Viserion was aggressively tugging at Arthur's armored fist now. "Even I think it's dangerous to do that..."

"Nonsense," Arthur smiled beaming at Daenerys, making her heart flutter. "They're just babies!"

To everyone shock, Arthur took off his plate gauntlet and waved it in front of Viserion. The cream colored dragon took great delight in it -judging by how his head followed the movement around- and toss it into the sky.

Viserion crouched and shot up to clamp on the mailed gauntlet and brought it back to Arthur, who rewarded him with some more long strokes on the dragon's head.

"... Did he just teach a dragon how to play _fetch_?!" Belidos asked in disbelief.

Daenerys had intended for her brother to be awed by her dragons, but now she felt a bit miffed at how easily he had taken their arrival. However, this was her brother, unpredictable at the best of times. Looking at the satchel that Belidos was carrying for her, she decided she would use the aphrodisiac tonight. It was one of the reasons why she had stayed in Essos; to find a replacement for the one that the fire took.

+++Eddard – King's Landing+++

Eddard Stark, Warden of the North, Hand of the Seven Kingdoms and friend to one Robert Baratheon, saw the tall tale signs of anger on his long time friend's face even before Stannis did.

"You… you DARE come to me with these filthy accusations?!" Robert Baratheon, King of Westeros roared at his younger brother, the dour faced Stannis, Lord of Dragonstone.

Renly, the young handsome lord of Storm's End, tried to played mediator "Brother, the evidence speaks for it-"

"Quiet! I'll get to you soon enough!" Robert roared, cutting off his younger brother. He then turned his eyes onto Ned himself, with hurt in them. "These two, I can see them plotting something, but even you Ned? What did they tell you that would make you believe such lies?!"

The Blackfish, Renly, and Stannis all turned to the Lord Paramount of Winterfell and Warden of the North, and waited for his input. Ned steeled himself for the task. It wasn't the correct thing to do, but it was the right thing.

"Your Grace, the evidence, when taken as a whole, is rather compelling." Ned started off in a soft low tone. "Initially I had been skeptical but thanks to the recent births that Varys had hidden away that you yourself corroborated with beforehand... it looks very damning."

"Damning?! DAMNING?!" Robert voice rose louder as he got up off his seat in the King's Study. "You are accusing my WIFE of cuckolding me, and that my children ARE NOT MY CHILDREN!? That is more than DAMNING NED!"

"I told you he would not listen," Brynden spoke up for the first time since Stannis presented his findings.

"And you!" Robert turned to the Master of Whispers. "Since when did rumors start becoming truths?!"

"Since I found irrefutable proof of what happened to support your brothers' claims." Brynden then unfolded a parchment and handed it to Robert. "This is a copy of the letter that Lord Tywin sent Cersei, detailing how all of your bastards in King Landing had been removed from King's Landing. Now tell me Your Grace, for what reason could the Lord of Casterly Rock possibly have to the take the time and effort to deal with a bunch of royal bastards?"

Robert looked at the paper and ripped it apart a few second later. "That's it then? A piece of paper and suddenly all of my children are bastard spawns?!"

"Robert," Ned saw his friend was boiling in fury now. Despite his heavyset nature, he was still fearsome when in this sort of mood. "Your seed is strong. Every time a Baratheon slept with a Lannister, they always yielded black haired children. Even all of your children that were spirited away from the capital, were black haired, regardless of whether their mother was blonde, redheaded, or brunette. And then there's the fact that many of your bastard sons are the spitting image of you. Take Edric Storm for example, and his mother was as blonde as Cersei."

"Really Ned? What about your children? Robb has red hair, as does Sansa, Bran, and even little Rickon. Does that mean Catelyn slept with someone else too?!" Robert rebutted and Ned himself had to bristle.

"At least Ned can say that _one _of his children looks like him, brother. Even should your accusation prove to be the case, he still has Arya to continue his bloodline amongst the Great Houses of Westeros. As for you on the other hand, none of your "legitimate" children look anything like you, while almost every one of your many bastards have almost uncanny resemblance." Stannis spoke up once more, holding his head high.

"You are lucky Mordred already left for Harrenhal, or else I'd be tempted to let her hear what you have to say and let her take your head off herself!" Robert shouted before he pointed at the door. "Leave me be! All of you! Except for you Ned, you stay."

The other three men looked at one another before giving Eddard one last look as they walked out. The two men, closer than blood brothers, remained in silence. The Lord of Winterfell knew Robert needed some time to cool his head and really think things through. His friend always had been the type to have knee-jerk reactions before he really considered the consequences.

When Stannis had first come to Ned, it was in the presence of Brynden Tully, who had just begun the process of building a completely new spy network for the realm. He hadn't believed it at first, but the proof, both the letter and what he had found in the lineage books, was irrefutable, along with the testimony of many women that Varys had hidden away. And then there were the recent births in Riverrun, girls that had borne Robert even more bastards. The Spider had considered the knowledge of those pregnant women to be a gift for the true heir of Westeros: Stannis Baratheon.

Ned sighed. If Robert's children turned out to be false, then that meant Stannis was the true heir to the Iron Throne, and Renly after him, seeing that Stannis' only living child was a girl.

"Ned, tell me truly, brother to brother, friend to friend," Robert voice spoke up low. "Do you believe them?"

"It's hard to deny the evidence..." Ned cautiously answered.

"Piss on the evidence, do _you_ believe them?" Robert asked making eye contact with Ned. "I am asking if you think I've really been cuckolded by Cersei all these years. Now tell me."

Ned remained silent trying to think of the answer that would appease Robert, but realized that his best friend wanted the truth, no matter how painful.

"Yes." Ned answered softly. "I do not believe Cersei ever gave you any true children."

"Not even Mordred, or sweet Myrcella?" Robert asked, seeming to sag into his chair.

"Some of Pr- Mordred's activity, documented by Varys, does lean toward her attempting to cover up the fact that she's not your trueborn child. In fact, Varys highly suspected that Petyr Baelish's death was connected to this very same issue." Ned sighed and thought that if only the girl had had dark hair, then at least she could have been spared from all this.

Robert shoulder slumped a bit before he held a hand to his head. "Leave me Ned."

Ned heard the tone of defeat in his friend's voice, one that meant that his friend believed him, despite his overwhelming desire not to. "Should I-"

"Just leave, Ned." Robert resigned tone came out. "I… I'll address this first thing tomorrow."

Eddard Stark looked at his friend in surprise. That reaction was very unlike Robert. History had proven on numerous occasions that Robert should either be too enraged to even think about the realm, or saddened to the point where he'd let his Hand rule in his stead. Resignation to one's duty was not something Robert did... _ever._

Unless...

"Robert... did you also suspect?"

"_Leave__,_ Ned." Robert emphasized the dismissal in his tone as he poured himself a cup of wine without sparing a glance at his oldest friend.

"...As you wish, Your Grace." Ned tipped his head before leaving the King's study.

+++ Next Day+++

Ned woke up to the sound of fighting out in the hallways and immediately drew _Ice_. Outside he saw men wearing the armor of House Tyrell and House Lannister fighting his own men. Leading the charge was a furious looking Ser Loras Tyrell, with the newly knighted Lancel Lannister not far behind him.

"What is the meaning of this Tyrell? Lannister?!" Ned demanded as he glared at the two men.

"Eddard Stark, you are hereby wanted for questioning regarding the death of King Robert Baratheon," Loras Tyrell declared as he looked to the men fighting. "Surrender or be cut down where you all stand."

Ned couldn't believe it, his friend? Dead?

His friend. Robert... was dead.

Moments later Ned saw more Tyrell men made their way into the tower armed with crossbows.

"How?" Ned asked looking at Loras for answers.

"Poison in his wine cup," Lancel spat as he glared at the Warden of the North. "According to the Kingsguards, you were the last one seen in his company.

"And in case you are wondering, Lords Brynden, Stannis, and Renly have already fled the city, apparently in the dead of night. It's astounds me that you were bold enough to remain. Or is it stupid?" Loras spat as he raised his hand up, ready to signal the crossbowmen. "Now surrender and maybe your men might live, or we can execute you all now as traitors to the realm."

Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, and Warden of the North looked to his men, who were waiting for his decision. They were good men and they were all ready to die for him. He would not be responsible for them dying pointless deaths.

"Stand down." Ned commanded as he laid _Ice_ down and watch as his men grudgingly do the same. Immediately the Lannister and Tyrell men quickly surrounded his own to bind their wrists. Loras gestured to Lancel, who took out a chain manacle and put it on Ned personally.

As he was being lead away in the directions of the dungeons, Ned began to let his mind work. Why had Stannis, Renly and Brynden left so quickly? They did not even send him a message. Did they know someone was going to kill Robert? Ned sighed as he mourned for his friend, he suspected that maybe Robert knew about Cersei's betrayal, yet his fondness for the children was real. Especially for Mordred. What decision would he have made come the morning? It didn't matter now, for nobody would never truly know.

Stannis would certainly begin to marshal his forces along with Renly and he did not doubt the Robb would call the North to march south once news of his arrest reached Winterfell, and it was safe to say that Brynden would call to muster the Riverlands as soon as he arrived back at Riverrun. Winter was coming, and all the Seven Kingdoms would bleed once more.

+++Sansa – Harrenhal+++

An agonizing headache was the first thing Sansa experienced as she regained consciousness. In fact her headache was so bad she did not even want to open her eyes or move. After a few seconds of rest she noticed how incredibly sore her body felt, even more so than after a hard workout. The most prevalent place the soreness seemed to be concentrated though was between her legs. It was then Sansa noticed something else, she was face down on an unfamiliar bed.

First, Sansa rarely slept face down, secondly, the bed she was on- while comfortable- was entirely too hard and firm. Her fist, which had been balled, slowly spread out to grip the sheet only to touch taunt muscled flesh. Her eyes shot wide open and immediately blushed at what she saw.

She was resting on a bare chested Arthur...

Thankfully, Arthur appeared to be in a deep slumber, judging by the steady rhythm of his breathing. His arms were splayed out to either side of him, but curled up on either side of his arms was a girl with dark hair on his left, and a girl with silver hair to his right.

_'Lorelei? And Daenerys? W-what's going on?'_

Sansa face, which still retained a blush, decided to push herself up and elicited a groan from Arthur and a soft moan from herself. Something had moved inside of her! Her eyes shot between her legs, and if she wasn't already blushing she would be now, as it was there that Sansa realized that Arthur and her were... as physically close as two people could get.

_'Oh- Oh my gods!'_

How long Sansa remained frozen, she could not say, but it was then she noticed something else, a soft musky smell everywhere. It made her feel a bit heady but she decided to try and snap out of it. To her left was Lorelei, who usually maintained a perfect look, was now completely messy with her hair matted to her pale white skin. There were visible bite marks all over her upper body, and several red marks that look faintly like handprints. …She detachedly noted that those handprints were more focused on the breast and buttocks areas. She then looked to her right and saw a content looking Daenerys. Like Lorelei, the Dragon Princess' silver hair was also matted and messy, and like the girl from the Vale, there were also bite marks on Daenerys's shoulders and neckline.

It was then something else occurred to her, if Lorelei and Daenerys had bite marks then... did she? Looking down at her own body Sansa noticed that, yes, there were indeed bite marks on her and what looked like hickey spots. Looking around the bed, Sansa notices several stains of red and gulped, it look like blood.

_'Oh gods... What HAPPENED?!'_

Sansa headache started to slowly recede and the fog that was in her mind begin to lift. There was something wrong with this picture. She was here, Daenerys was here, Lorelei was here...

_'Wait, where's Mordred?!'_

Looking all around the now lit room, she saw no trace of the Baratheon girl. If Arthur had an orgy with his wives, judging by just how deeply he was buried inside of her, then Mordred should be here too...

Suddenly, it was as if a truck slammed into her head and the night's events came back clearly. Daenerys had arrived at Harrenhal, there were the dragons, which made her immediately think of making Valyrian steel, as she recalled once reading something about dragon fire being involved in the process, which she was going to bring up to Arthur at the first opportunity. Arthur had asked the kitchen staff to prepare a welcome feast for all the new arrivals, but wanted to dine privately with his wives so they could all get to know each other. Lorelei, being his mistress, had also been permitted to be there in the capacity of a serving girl.

However, Sansa decided that she would cook the meal as a welcoming gesture to her newest sister-wife, which was why she had relieved the head chef for her portions. She recalled the head chef had told her that Daenerys brought a spice from Essos that Arthur usually enjoyed with his food. Sansa recalled uncorking the unlabeled bottle and found herself surprised by the smell. It had smelled like soy sauce, or a reasonable facsimile of it. After she lightly licked a bit off her pinky finger, she remembered feeling a bit warm after tasting it and shivering in pleasure, after all she had been looking for something like that sauce for a quite some time so she was reasonably sure her reaction to finally finding it was justified.

Still, Sansa decided that she would make dishes using the ingredient for Arthur and her sister-wives. It had turned out better than expected but much to her sadness, the entire bottle was used up and she had no idea how or where to get more. Her mind flashed forward to their dinner, where everyone was making small talk and how Daenerys was telling Arthur about how her dragons had hatched. She also learned that night that Targaryens can apparently withstand fire. She had seen Arthur's horrified look and even Sansa felt guilty for some reason. Daenerys could have died and Arthur wouldn't have been the wiser until it was far too late.

Daenerys had reassured him that it was not his fault, but she was pleased by his concern for her. Princess Daenerys was a real beauty, Sansa would dare say prettier than her but at least about even with Mordred and Lorelei. Just as they were about to eat, Ser Jaime had arrive and requested Mordred's presence over an urgent matter. Mordred had told them to eat without her and that she'd be back in due time.

So Arthur had ate with gusto as Lorelei also partook of the food and Sansa found that the soy sauce seasoning-like substance was just perfect for the occasion. Strangely enough though, it was Daenerys who began to act weird as she began to tug at her dress, exposing her cleavage a bit more. Sansa had noticed Arthur, who had been eating, begin to eye Daenerys in the same manner as he usually eyed the food she made him. Then he turned his gaze to her, and Sansa recalled feeling weird under his gaze as if her body was reacting in some way. However it all boiled over when Daenerys grabbed her brother and kissed him and then...

'_Oh_. _My_. **GODS**_!'_

It was that exact moment that Sansa recalled, in excruciating vivid detail, the orgy. Because it WAS an orgy! At one point Daenerys AND her had been kissing while Arthur entertained himself with Lorelei, while watching them!

How could this had happened?! Why does she keep on getting into these weird situ-oh. Right... Karma.

_'I'm going to fucking neuter Shirou!'_

Well, that explained everything. Sansa recalled Mordred had even returned at one point, saw what was happening, locked the doors, and left them alone.

Suddenly Arthur began to shift under her and Sansa eyes widen as she felt him getting bigger inside of her.

_'Oh, it's probably morning w-'_

Sansa thoughts were interrupted as Arthur rocked his pelvis up a bit making her moan softly as she was hit by the pleasure of his movements. Bracing herself against Arthur's chest, she noticed that his eyes were open, and that lust-driven look on his face had returned as he pulled her down for a kiss.

_'Okay, maybe I've been too hard on Shirou…__' _Sansa (blissfully) conceded right before Arthur fiercely gripped her hips and began to reenact their earlier activities, vigorously.

_ '…But I swear if Archer makes a single sly remark about this, I am going to kick him in the ba-!'_

"_Oh_, _**GODS**__!"_

TBC!

AN: First off thanks you to my editors, seriously! They rock! I hope they are still with me when I get back to writing. Which leads directly into my second post.

Sorry for the long delay in between chapters but there is no two way about it. I have been going through some major real life ... issues that has been going on for a while. So this chapter might be the last of it until something changed on my end. I love writing fanfic but priorities have to be placed and when you are pretty much stress out about situations, writing is pretty much the last thing you'd want to do. So thanks for those that stuck it out with me! Hopefully I can make a retur if not.. well. Who knows if it gets too long I'll release an outline just to finish capping the story off somewhat. Thanks for reading and the reviews!

Now the most importantly thing, the story! Finally! Arthur did it! It took a while but ARthur finally did it! Or them. But No Mordred yet, I think Mordred would get some one on one if ya know what I mean ./wink wink nudge nudge. As for while the long delay between getting marry and why Arthur haven't laid them more often. Like someone put it, they are in teen bodies and their hormone is surging but, one has an ironclad Will, Arthur, another was raise with proper decorum, Sansa-shirou, another is fucking afraid for her life. Mordred. And Lorelei feels guilty so jumping Arthur is the last thing on their minds BUT they wouldn't say no to if Arthur decided he wanted to, because he's their husband and all. So couple that along with their busy scheduled and projects they have going on and there really no time for them to get to know each other on an intimate level. Now not to say they don't sit around and talk, but they are comfortable with each other and there have been stolen kisses here and there.

Also yes, Robert is dead and look who is with the Lannister, the Tyrells who are on par with the Lannisters! I have hinted about their alliance for quite some time and now you see it. So where does that leave everyone? Well you got the North, The Riverlands, Dragonstone and maybe some of the Storm Ends. What happened after this heh heh heh.

And finally Daenerys return to Arthur side with DRAGONS! That's it no more ties in Essos, all those who have served Arthur in Essos have arrived with her. It took her a bit but she's back now :D

And that's it! Thanks to all for reading. I hope my situation change but if not I won't leave this opened end and just give a summary of what my intentions are if it takes too long.

As always C+C Welcome Reviews Appreciated!


	18. Book 2: Chapter 7

Game of Thrones belong to G.R.R.M

Fate Stay Night belong to Type Moon

A Throne Nobody Wants

**Regarding the Ghost Updates! No idea what happened there, I was just deleting stuff which made Fanficnet show my stories as updated. I received a lot of PM and I figured i addressed it here along with a REAL chapter. **

Special Thanks to Mingyu helping me editing this fic! The fic whisperer that man.

Book 2: Chapter 7

+++ Sansa- Meadow of Blades +++

"I-is that her?!"

Sansa eyes immediately flew open at the comment. The loud proclamation forced her out of slumber to locate the origin of the unknown voice. There were startled gasps when Sansa spotted the group.

The first person she recognized easily enough. Staring wide-eyed at her was none other than her male counterpart, the one yet to be embittered by the weight of his life, Shirou Emiya. It was then her eyes went from Shirou to the companion on his right. Sansa stared in shock at the black-haired girl with twin-tails who looked extremely familiar. She was dressed in a red shirt with a short, black skirt accentuated by black stockings. The girl was looking between Shirou and Sansa with a displeased look on her face.

"Close your eyes pervert!" the black hair girl growled at as she socked Shirou so hard he was lifted up a few feet into the air and fell into a crumbled heap.

"Uggghh~~" Shirou moaned in an undignified pose, his face planted in the ground with his butt pointed toward the sky.

Satisfied with her attack, the black hair girl turned back to Sansa and gave her a withering glare causing the redhead to take a step back.

"And you! Why are you naked?! Cover yourself up!"

Sansa slowly looked down at herself and nodded. Yep, she was naked. Odd. Usually she appeared in these Reality Marble dreams in whatever she went to sleep with, which mostly happened to be her night clothes. It took her approximately 2.03 seconds to realize exactly why she had been naked. Faster than lighting she had one arm up covering her developing breasts and her other arm stretched down to cup where her lower half was exposed.

"Rin, we're guests here. We shouldn't be so rude to female Senpai."

Sansa, still blushing hotly, turned her attention to the girl that had spoken up and was shocked by who she saw. After all, the purple-haired girl was her constant morning companion for a few years in her old life.

"S-Sakura?!" Sansa voice sounded far away to her own ears as she looked the purple-haired girl over.

"Senpai!" the purple-haired girl replied in a friendly tone as she gave a low bow with her two hands demurely cupped together.

"Pardon our intrusion!"

Unlike from when Sansa last saw the girl, which was in her school uniform, the purple-haired girl in question was wearing a white shirt with a yellow blouse over it. The look was finished with a plaid skirt of matching color.

"Impossible!" Sansa said in disbelief as her memories as Shirou rushed back to the forefront. She turned her eyes back to Rin.

"H-how are the both of you here?!"

"Forget about that, why are you even naked?!" the loud dark-haired girl accused as she shot the downed Shirou another withering look.

"More importantly are you always naked when you meet with those two idiots?!"

"W-what? No! I usually appear in whatever I go to sleep in…," Sansa answered distractedly as she took in the sight of a ghost from her past. Already her old friend had broken ranks with her twin-tailed companion and was walking toward her with a smile.

The girl, Rin, gave Sansa a half-lidded look in response to her answer.

Sansa grimaced as she was mentally recovered from what had transpired in the real world. Wait. If they were here then... her eyes searched for what should be the final member of their group and sure enough, she found her just arriving in her field of vision.

The first thought that came to Sansa's mind as she took in the beautiful blonde-haired, green-eyed figure, was that the girl was a Lannister. The girl in question was shorter than Mordred. The blonde face, however, differed from the Mordred quite a bit. No wonder Arthur was sure that their Mordred was not the traitor Mordred.

"Arturia…?" Sansa breathed out softly. The short blonde put up her guard after catching sight of Shirou's condition, but soon enough gave a soft nod.

"Lady Sansa," the King of Knights, clad in an elegant blue dress greeted her. There was no offer of a false smile, just a simple greeting. One that was exactly like her husband when he was being cordial.

"Here, Senpai." Sakura draped her yellow sweater over the naked redhead.

"Thank you." Sansa gratefully nodded as she felt the sweater was just enough to covered her modesty, but most of her front was still exposed. She also noted that Rin was glaring venomously at her chest area and that weird sense of pride threatened to bubble up again.

"So how is it possible that you are all here?"

Rin, her old classmate that she barely remembered, answered by pointing a thumb back toward the recovering Shirou (who was slowly getting back up).

"He brought us here to hide from the enemy assault. Imagine our surprise when we saw this nice field of flowers here."

"Enemy?" Sansa frowned before she remembered what Archer had warned her of- wait, didn't Archer say he was going to bail out his younger counterpart? Looking around, beside the three girls and Shirou, she did not see any signs of the sarcastic Counter Guardian anywhere.

"Archer.. is he..?"

The look in the three girls' eyes let Sansa know the fate of her other counterpart.

"It was his idea for us to hide here," Rin was the one who spoke up first, her arms folded across her chest as if hugging herself for comfort. Moments later her blonde companion gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze.

"Stupid jerk, always dying on me..."

"So, Senpai, why are you naked?" Sakura asked in an effort to get everyone thoughts off of the noble, yet sarcastic man.

"Yeah, I didn't think we- er, I mean you really sleep with no clothes on," Shirou tossed in his two cents, but quailed under a glare from Rin.

Sansa suddenly blushed red as her hair as her thoughts were brought back to her most recent memories. Seeing the group's expectant looks she turned her head to the side a bit.

"I, ah, ahem, I was with my husband..."

There was a few moments of silence before Rin turned to a wide-eyed, green-looking Shirou and pointed at him.

"Leave. Privacy. Now."

"What, why?!" Shirou asked, confusion etched on his face.

"Girl talk, dummy!" Rin snapped and was pleased when Shirou eyes lit up in understanding.

"R-Right, I-I'll just be over that way," Shirou pointed in a random direction and began to walk away at a fast pace.

Sansa sighed, it appeared gossip was universal. Or rather, multi-versal. Sure enough after Rin was satisfied that Shirou was far enough away, she grabbed her blonde companion by the arm and headed toward where the rest of the group was.

"Oh, let's sit by the tre- Oh my! What is that?!" Sakura squeaked in fright as she saw the large sleeping form of Taiga curled up in one of the tree groves, hiding most of her form.

Rin, who could now see the large wolf, gulped nervously. "W- Is that the Direwolf?"

Sansa nodded as she approached the sleeping beast. Taiga only ever woke up when she was prodded by Sansa or food. Slowly she began to stroke the soft fur of her pet, showing off Taiga's beautiful glossy gray and white fur, as well as the fact that she was harmless. Judging by how they were inching closer, she had succeeded.

"C-Can I touch it, Senpai?" Sakura asked shyly as she stared at the slumbering beast. Despite its size, the girl couldn't help but find it cute.

Sansa smiled and reached out to take Sakura's wrist and place it on Taiga. She watched as her old friend slowly stroked the large beast's hide. True to form, Taiga did not object but instead lazily turned around to give Sakura's hand a gentle lick before laying back down to sleep. The lick caused her old friend to giggle softly as she became more confident in petting the large animal.

Sansa turned around and saw the longing gaze that Rin had on her face. Arturia was still giving Taiga a wary look.

"You know you are welcome to join, right Rin? Arturia?"

With permission given, Rin let out a soft squeal and began to stroke the fur of the great wolf beast. Arturia, on the other hand, abstained. Reminding Sansa of how Arthur could hold himself aloof. Even the presence they exuded was the same. Having literally basked in it on a daily basis she felt comfortable in the shorter blonde's company.

Easing herself next to the King of Knights, they shared a few minutes of silence as Taiga woke up and began to lick Rin and Sakura's faces, causing the two girls to squeal in greater delight.

"So what happened over there? Archer was quite vague that last time I saw him here," Sansa turned to look at the smaller blonde, who closed her eyes and exhaled softly.

"We are not too sure ourselves. A week ago there was some sort of undead outbreak, and not the kind usually affiliated with the undead apostles." Arturia began, her eyes softened at the sight of Rin being nudged around by Taiga and being very affectionate.

"It was like those zombie apocalypse movies. Have you ever seen one?"

Sansa blinked as she realized that it had been a long time since she thought about such mundane things about her old life. But yes, she had seen something similar.

"Surely with the Clock Tower and spirits like yourself, not to mention Alaya, the zombies don't stand a chance?"

"They didn't initially," Arturia explained, but there was a puzzled frown on her face. "But then, suddenly they were everywhere, blue-eyed wights lead by men made of the coldest ice. And they had Counter Guardians like Archer working for them also."

Sansa eyes widened at Arturia explanation. "H-How?"

Arturia eyes furrowed. "According to Archer, whatever those things are, it acts like a parasite. It incubate itself in humanity, and by extension the Will of Humanity itself."

"Winter is coming..." Sansa murmur softly to herself but saw that Arturia had heard her. "Sorry, not sure if Shirou told you about my family House Words."

Arturia merely studied her for a moment and nodded. "He told me. Sorry, I am still coming to terms that you are really a Shirou inside. Every now and then I can see a shadow of Shirou in the way you hold yourself or in the inflection of certain words. Yet you are different enough where I would miss it if I did not pay close attention."

Sansa blinked at the green-eyed blonde and let out a small grin. It wasn't as blatant as some of the ones she used to do. '_Like a boy_,' her mother once said, '_a lady's grin is different_.'

"To me the way Arthur holds himself is exactly how you are right now. Even down to the intimidating presence. Literally, the only thing that changed was your gender."

Arturia face showed that she was quite interested by Sansa's confession. "Truly?"

"Well, except for the height. He's really tall… and muscular." Sansa elaborated to her intrigued companion.

"I see..." Arturia looked down to her body before looking at Sansa, who towered over her by at least half a head.

"S-So, did Archer say anything else before he…," Sansa lowered her voice to look to see that the two girls were now chasing Taiga around the heart tree. "About the Long Night?"

Arturia shook her head slowly. "That was pretty much it, though he did tell us that the crucial battle will be taking place on your world. That Alaya brought in as much help as it was able to before it couldn't interfere anymore."

"You mean Arthur and the other reincarnated Knights of the Round Table?" Sansa asked as she realized perhaps the reason why there were so many reincarnated people was not so random after all. She would need to tell Arthur. He would know what to do.

"I'm sorry but did you say reincarnated _knights_?" Arturia whirled on Sansa, her eyes searching. There was a flicker of something Sansa could not make out.

"Shirou never mentioned anything about other knights."

"I- just found out recently myself so they wouldn't have known," Sansa answered while looking at Arturia in genuine concern. She couldn't explain it but she knew the knights being reincarnated was important to Arturia. So distracted by Arturia's intensity, she did not realize Sakura and Rin had stopped their little game with Taiga to evesdrop.

"W-which knights were reincarnated?" Arturia whispered softly, almost desperately.

"W-Well, keep in mind that not all of them are born knights, but from what Arthur told me," Sansa began slowly as she saw Arturia visibly steel herself. "Lancelot, Gawain, Galahad, and Guinevere."

"Wow," Rin breathed softly at the name of possible heroic spirits that resided on Sansa's world while Arturia closed her eyes when the names were listed.

"Even _Guinevere_?" Arturia muttered softly to herself.

"You should know that -like me- their genders have also become inverted," Sansa spoke up quickly and saw Arturia eyebrow rise so high that it was threatening to fly off her face.

"Gawain is a tall Essosian woman name Gywr. She is married and Galina, Galahad reborn, is her daughter. She is two years older than me."

Arturia, for the first time, lost her composure as her eyes widened comically. "Th-They're mother and daughter?!"

Sansa give a tight nod. "They're also leaders of an all female mercenary warband two thousand strong. They've swore fealty to Arthur again."

Arturia eyes once again took on a complicated expression, but her face still showed her disbelief. "A-And my wife and First Knight?"

"Guinevere has been reborn as a minor noble from the Vale. She is as big as Arthur, though a bit burlier. Her name is now Gwynn of House Lake."

"Gui- Guinevere?! Burly?!" Arturia head titled to the side as if trying to will herself to picture her former wife gender-bent. Suddenly she stood ramrod straight.

"Wait! House Lake? But if Lancelot is a woman then her – is Manievere- I mean Guinevere- and Lancelot..."

Sansa do not know why, but she was getting serious Mordred-vibes now. The adorable ones when her sister-wife was completely flustered and out of her depth. The reaction was eerily similar to how Arturia was acting. Feeling very mischievous for some reason, she decided to go for broke.

"Worry not," Sansa assured Arturia, knowing of the legendary scandal. "Lancelot was reborn as a woman of the Vale named Lorelei,"

Sansa wondered, if Arturia eyes opened any wider could they pop out?

Arturia blinked and she did some medieval mental map work. "Wait, then doesn't that make them-"

"It makes Lancelot, or rather, Lorelei the younger sister of Ser Gwynn of House Lake."

"S-S-s-s- SISTER?!" Arturia all but yelled, her decorum gone, her imperious presence nullified. She could only gape like a fish.

"They're _brother_ and _sister_?!"

Arturia suddenly went quiet. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Rin look at her blonde companion, and she guessed fellow harem member, in concern. Truth be told, she was starting to become concerned herself at Arturia's sudden silence and shaking. There were some low inaudible mutters before the shaking intensified.

"Bu-urk~" Arturia clamp a hand over her mouth.

"Saber?" Rin approached her harem-mate when the blonde suddenly stood up and the expression on her face back to normal, whatever expression she had was gone.

"How... ironic," Arturia mused softly to herself. "Are they warriors like Gawain and Galahad?"

"Gwynn is, Lorelei has taken up womanly pursuits, feeling that this was her penance for her role in your downfall," Arturia's eyes widened once more in surprise and Sansa decided to give more information to the King of Knights.

"She is the best seamstress in Harrenhal, if not the land. Her needle-works are legendary."

"… !" the King of Knights once more hid her eyes behind her bangs, looking at the ground while her body shook violently for a few moments.

Sansa observed Arturia carefully and suddenly something suspicious came to her mind. Could it be that the King of Knights were amused by fate of her former knight and wife?

"A-and Lan- Lorelei?" Arturia voice sounded tight as she became a bit more somber. "Is she happy?"

Sansa nodded and looked over to where Taiga was demanding to be petted by her. She rolled her eyes as she indulged the needy beast.

"She has been extremely so since you made her your mistress."

"Ungah!"

The loud thud forced Sansa to look up where she saw the King of Knights flat on her back, frothing at the mouth.

"Saber!" Rin shouted, concern clearly in her voice as she knelt by her Servant's side.

"Arturia!" Sakura, always gentle, also ran to the King of Knight's other side, fanning the face of her harem-mate with her hands.

"Saaabaaah!" the loud male voice of Shirou could be heard across the field, and his figure could be seen running toward them.

Sansa looked at the King of Knights still on the ground, body convulsing, eyes wild, and let out a small secretive smile even as Shirou reached them.

"SABAAAAH!"

"Braaggghhh!"

+++ Mordred- Harrenhal+++

The Lord and Lady of Harrenhal were breaking fast in their large private dining room as was customary, though missing were the presence of Lady Sansa, Lady Lorelei, and perhaps their newest addition, Lady Daenerys. Arya had choose to break fast with Captain Gywr's daughter, Galina instead. The smaller girl felt that she could learn more from the fast and nimble the young mercenary.

So it was upon this scene that Mordred found herself. The long rectangular table, Arthur at one end, her sitting to his left on his side of the table. Sansa would usually be opposite her, Arya would take the spot directly across from Arthur. But now with Daenerys here, the sister of Arthur might be taking that spot instead. They had been eating for quite some time, the large spread before them already half consumed.

Mordred peeked at her husband from the corner of her eye before she looked down at her breakfast. It was a Sansa-inspired creation for certain. It included neat strips of cut pork, eggs, and well-baked biscuits on her plate arranged in an artistic manner. To her left was a large cup of oranges juice squeezed from Sansa's garden and fresh milk from the cows, possibly the same one given to her by her father.

'_Now wouldn't that be ironic, those cows actually being worth something_.'

It was amazing to Mordred how much Sansa's inventions improved Harrenhal. While Mordred herself kept busy with the day to day affairs, it would not be a stretch to say that Sansa's innovation did more to uplift the people of Pendragon's quality of life. The trickle down effect was starting to show.

Of course, none of that was possible without their husband's protection. Under Arthur's rule, like in ages past, those that resided on his land were protected, thus safeguarding Sansa's creativity as it spread. Mordred herself made sure to root out corruption at every level of government down to the smaller towns. It wasn't Camelot reborn, but it was beginning to shape up to something very close.

Arthur appeared to be done as he waved the serving girls away, who still blushed in his presence. Mordred could admit that he was very handsome to behold, but then again, Targaryen's were suppose to be naturally beautiful.

"Everyone, leave us," Arthur suddenly spoke up, startling Mordred out of her thoughts. She heard her husband order the commander of her guards. "Brienne, no one is to disturb us no matter what. Understood?"

"Yes, My Lord," Brienne of Tarth pounded a plated fist to her chest before she walked out.

Like most of their troops, Brienne now wore the personalized Pendragon armor, thanks once more to Sansa's smiths working laboriously day and night to make them. Unlike the regular troops, Mordred personalized her personal guards with a touch of red on the shoulders. Most believed it was to pay respect to House Lannister, but they didn't know that it was because of her coat of arms during her rebellion. Of course, she wasn't doing it to be disrespectful to Arthur. But while she wasn't proud of her rebellion, she was still proud of what she achieved with it.

Now with Brienne gone, it was just her and Arthur. Alone. Mordred gulped softly. Peering up shyly she saw her husband with a complicated look on his face. Apparently he was also at a loss for words. She couldn't blame him. Her other sister wives and one mistress was still sleeping after the previous night's... proclivities.

After another minute of silence between husband and wife, Mordred decided she couldn't stand it anymore.

"Husband/ Wife," the duo said at the same time.

Mordred immediately went quiet while Arthur did the same. Yet another moment of silence elapsed between the two, and like her, Arthur seem to be fidgeting in his seat before he nodded to himself.

"Wife… Mordred," Arthur began slowly, he was dressed in the stylized blue and white robe she had Lorelei made for him. Say what you will about Lancelot reborn, put something in his hand and he'd become an expert at it, or rather _her_ hands.

"Regarding yesterday..."

"Ah..." Mordred's faced flushed completely red, recalling the scene she had walked into yesterday and what, and who, Arthur was doing. Her reaction made Arthur's face take on a complicated expression and after taking a deep breath he exhaled heavily. Then without warning he slammed his face onto the table causing her to jump out of her seat both in surprise and concern.

"Arthur?!"

Arthur merely held out his hand and slowly lift his head up, besides a small red welt on his forehead that was beginning to fade Mordred saw no other damage.

"I'm acting too much like a coward, that was not my intention," Arthur exhaled deeply before his face took on a more determine look.

"I want to apologize for what you witnessed yesterday. I normally would never even consider such an… orgy as if I was in a- a brothel. I do not know what came over me, but I can only offer you my more sincere apology and that it will never happen again."

Mordred blinked and saw that Arthur truly did look sorry. Her face slowly morphed into one of gentle exasperation even as her respect for him rose higher. She naturally did not care if he bedded his wives in such a manner, but he apparently thought it was something she disapproved of as a princess of the realm. She held up a hand to stop him from continuing his apology.

"Husband… Arthur, you were not to blame for yesterday." Mordred sighed and began to settle down into her seat.

"Firstly, I don't care if you do bed us- I mean them in such a manner. It is your husbandly as well as lordly right."

Mordred saw Arthur eyes widen as he took his seat again in a heavy manner. She had to smile at that, always too noble sometimes and far too concerned about propriety.

"Secondly, I found out that what happened yesterday was a result of Lady Daenerys' machination," Mordred explained to the confusion of her husband.

"Dany? How?" Arthur's confusion was understandable though.

Mordred looked at her husband and explained exactly why it was his sister's fault.

It had started with Mordred being called away by her uncle before she could partake of the dinner. The reason why was because apparently the three food tasters that she had personally employed were fornicating like rabbits in the kitchen area. She had been completely shocked at what happened until one of the Warrior's Maiden guards recognized a familiar bottle that was by the kitchen stove, one that Sansa had cooked at. Further inquiry to the rest of the kitchen staff revealed that it was given to them by Daenerys to cook with under the excuse that it was Arthur's favorite spice. The head of the kitchen staff, Lilian Strass, had been dubious about the whole thing until Sansa showed up and approved of the ingredient.

The (now separated) fornicating food tasters had done their job, thus ensuring nothing happened before it was served to the rest of the house. That was when Mordred had rushed back to the Dining Hall and happened upon the scene of Arthur and his maidens. Seeing as no one else but his wives were caught up in his lust induced state, Mordred ordered the area cleared and the rest was history.

Mordred face became hot as she recalled in great detail the scene she had stumbled on upon her return. By all appearances Sansa became Arthur's main course while the other two women were draped over his shoulders, watched in fascination. Devouring dragon indeed, she looked back to Arthur only to see his face had taken on a pained expression before he took several more deep breaths.

"Dany..." Arthur muttered in a pained tone as he began to rub his temples. "So that's why… I should apologize to Sansa and Lorelei on her behalf."

"You shouldn't," Mordred interjected with a raised eyebrow and knowing look.

"The concoction was supposed to wear off in an hour from what I was told, two at the most being spread out over as many dishes as it was. But I recall the three of you continuing well into the night."

Arthur face flushed red while Mordred grinned. "So you see, the three of you did nothing wrong. Strange that you apologized to me though. I thought you were just embarrassed by what happened."

Once more her husband's face took on that complicated expression as he eyed his cup in silent contemplation before letting out a sigh.

"Why the long sigh, My Lord?" Mordred asked with real concern as she moved beside him to give him a comforting pat on his hand. "You have been absolved."

Arthur exhaled once more before turning to face her, his eyes contemplative.

"Husband?" Mordred tilted her head questioningly to the side to prompt him to move on. Apparently that did the trick as she could see the resolved firming up in his eyes.

"I – I just hope that I have not gotten any of them with child," Arthur locked his eyes with hers.

Mordred for her part was confused and her face probably showed it. "Why not? It's a good thing to have heirs."

"Yes, it is." Arthur nodded in agreement before his eyes became sharp and held her gazed with determination. "But I had wanted you to give me my first heir. A selfish desire I know."

Mordred took a few moments to really process what her husband had just said before the implication struck her like a cavalry charge and her face turned redder than the tomatoes growing in Sansa's garden.

"A-Arthur…," Mordred could not believe how her voice came out like a squeak. She wanted to turn away but Arthur held her gaze with his sheer presence and, as more often than not, when he showed her any affection it usually left her vulnerable.

"Bu-but w-hy me? First? _Why_?"

Arthur reply was to cup Mordred cheek and give it a soft gentle caress. Mordred got mad then. Arthur was clearly enjoying her being flustered like this, the joy in his eyes was clearly visible.

"Why? You asked?" Arthur slowly drew her in for a soft gentle kiss before looking at her again.

"Despite the fact that I married my sister first, I do not consider her my first wife. You are."

"B-But _why_ me?!" Mordred could not help her stammering at the thought of Arthur's intent for her!

Mordred knew in some detached way that she would have to have children one of these days, but her fear of Arthur and her effort to be on his good side had taken up most of her thoughts in regards to particular aspect of their marriage. Though Robert and mother often teased her about it, she had always thought that she would be very last on his list. Not the bloody first!

Suddenly Arthur face looked uncertain and much less confident. "U-Unless of course that you are repulsed by me?"

"No, of course not!" Mordred automatically responded as her eyes widened and her face blushed red once more. They would have to find a new fruit for her to be compared to after today.

"So… you are not adverse to it?" Arthur asked with a hopeful smile. He looked so happy that Mordred really did not know what to say, only nodded her head.

"Go- Good, that is good," Arthur sighed in visible relief and his shoulders shifted as if a burden was lifted off of him.

"Your father, mother and grandfather have been constantly sending ravens asking when I was going to give them grandchildren. Not to say Sansa's mother did not do the same, despite her dislike of me."

"Y-You only desire this because they've been badgering you?" Mordred blush suddenly faded away and she felt a little saddened. So it was obligation and duty with Arthur than… well, she'd do her part.

"No!" Arthur said firmly as he put one hand on her shoulders and the other cupping her chin to make her face him.

"This was a decision I have made on our way to Harrenhal."

Mordred blinked in confusion before her heart began to warm once more. Only Arthur could ever take her emotions on such a ride.

"Truly?"

Arthur nodded firmly.

"Here you go again, looking so puzzled, you have no idea how selfless you truly are do you?" And to Mordred's great surprise, Arthur enveloped her into a gentle hug.

'I_f you only knew how selfish I really am,'_ Mordred thought, squirming a bit in Arthur's embrace.

'_Really selfish_.'

"It still amazes me how you were willing to wed me despite not knowing my marriage to my sister was fake."

'_I sort of had to honor my bet with Robert..._' Mordred mentally countered Arthur's point and fidgeted with the hem of her dress.

"You also kept the peace with Sansa. Most highborn ladies would not even tolerate a mistress, but here you are welcoming to both Sansa and… helping Lorelei out of her situation," Arthur continued as he began to play with the little tuft of her hair.

'_Extenuating circumstance I assure you,_' Mordred wanted to clarify but the feeling of his fingers on her scalp was doing things to her mindset.

"And I will admit that I've grown to enjoy your flustered look. You are so skittish, like a doe." Arthur's mirth was clear in his voice.

'_Have you not paid any attention to what you do to the women around this castle?!_' Mordred wanted to protest but could not find her voice any longer.

"The more I get to know you, the more I want our child, my heir, to have Harrenhal, the place you were instrumental in building."

Mordred could not describe the feeling that was swelling inside her chest but it made her feel so warm. There was a little niggling in her head that said she should perhaps tell him the truth, but it was squashed when she saw something in his eyes that went beyond simple affection, familiar fondness or cordial respect.

Dare she hope it was love?

"Our child..." Mordred repeated the words only to see Arthur smile brightly and happily while giving a nod. Despite how she felt, as far as Arthur was concerned, they had no blood relation. And even if they did, what he did with Daenerys yesterday proved that it was no hindrance. Did she dare to grasp this little bit of happiness for herself?

Knight of Treachery, they called her. Usurper, rebel, perhaps… this would be okay.

"Mordred?" Arthur prompted her after she had fallen completely silent in contemplation.

"And in the mean time you wouldn't touch your other wives would you," Mordred came back to herself and looked at Arthur face and saw him give a nod.

"Barring what happened yesterday, I'll wait until you're ready. I promise," Arthur swore even as Mordred eye widened.

Arthur's promise was ironclad, like how he had promised to kill her in her previous life and end the rebellion. Outnumbered as his forces were, Arthur kept his promise and slew her on top of a mountain made from the corpses of her men.

Watching Arthur's face again, Mordred decided that she would worry about tomorrow's problems tomorrow. She had too many already. Perhaps she should live in the moment as she had before Arthur came back into her life. Looking shyly back at Arthur, her face tinged pink.

"If, if that's the case then perhaps…," Mordred breathed in deeply before making eye contact with Arthur.

"Then perhaps my Lord would care to visit his wife tonight?"

Arthur pulling her toward him to kiss her was all the answer she needed.

+++ Eddard – King's Landing- Baelor Sept +++

Eddard had many titles in his life, Lord, Warden of the North, Father, Husband, but he had never expected that traitor would be one of them. Yet here, on the Sept, he waited for the nobles of the Crownlands and the newly crowned Joffrey Baratheon arrival so he can be judged. He wonder if he should take the red streak in the sky was an ill open for him.

_**"Booo!"**_

_**"Traitor!"**_

_**"Murderer!**_**"**

Some even flung cabbages and other rotten fruits at him, but Eddard gritted his teeth and took the abuse. They did not realize the monsters they had on the throne. It had been a busy week, Joffrey's coronation was carried out almost as fast as Robert's funeral, done in haste and now lain to rest in the King's Tomb.

By the Old Gods, where did it all go so wrong? His best friend, dead. There was a hollow hole in his heart now, despite the problems they had with one another or the falling out over Elia and her children, he loved Robert.

The crowd fell silent as the royal trumpet blared out to signal the arrival of their newly-crowned king, the incestuous bastard of Cersei and Jaime Lannister. Cersei had counseled for him during his foray in the dungeons to admit to treason but plead for mercy to join the Black, or else they would have to execute him.

So be it, they had no leverage on him now. His children were with Pendragon and he knew that the Targaryen Prince was honorable. No harm would come to Sansa, Arya, and Bran. His thoughts went to Robb, who will now feel the weight of responsibility on his shoulders when war eventually breaks out. Robb would not stand for his death and he would never bend the knee to Joffrey. Eddard just hoped his son would be smart enough not go past the Neck. After all, before the Targaryen came, no Southern forces ever made it passed that point. Thankfully were no dragons for the North to worry about anymore.

There was the usual pompous ceremony before the royal family was escorted out, Joffrey along with his bride to be Margery Tyrell, the current Queen Cersei Lannister and finally the Dwarf, Tyrion Lannister. Other nobles filled out to the dais that was propped up a good twenty feet, so the crowd could have a better view of his execution.

Eddard found himself staring at the hard black stone on the ground as everyone was introduced. Even as the hot sun was beating down on him, at least it was better than the dark, dank cell he had been kept in. One could even say it was an improvement. He did spare a few glances to look for Renly, Stannis or even Brynden the Blackfish, but they had abandoned him.

Pretty soon the litany of titles was over and another was read, introducing the nobles. So once more Eddard weighed his options. Should he try a desperate gamble and make a bid for freedom? He could, but he was currently chained down so that option was out. He would have spit in the Queen direction if his mouth wasn't so dry.

"How do you plead Eddard Stark, Traitor to the Crown?"

Eddard snapped back and realized they were finally addressing him. The speaker was Grand Maester Pycelle, next to him was one of the King's Guard, Ser Payne, who had _Ice_ strapped to his back. Seeing his family blade in the hands of another made his blood boil but still he remained defiant, his face reflected his stance.

"I'm afraid I wasn't paying attention to this farce of a trial. Care to repeat the question?"

With a nod from Cersei, Ser Payne struck Ned across the face with the back of his plate gauntlet. The blow was heavy but it did not break any teeth, something he was thankful for, small as it was.

"Eddard Stark, Traitor to the Crown, you stand accused of poisoning the late King Robert Baratheon. Unfortunately your own co-conspirators fled in the night like jackals before the King's Justice could be mete. You also stand accused of high treason for spreading false malicious rumors about the royal family, in particular your slanderous lies about her Grace, Queen Cersei Baratheon. How do you plead to these charges?"

Ned took in the "royal" family for the first time. Joffrey was staring at him, rage visible in his eyes. Margery, who was a friend of Sansa, looked uncomfortable and could not meet his eyes. Tyrion the dwarf showed no emotion, the Queen, however, was openly smirking and mockingly toasted him with her wine goblet.

"I'm no traitor, if anything that title belongs to the Queen for what she did with her broth-!" Ned began to retort but was interrupted by Payne's fist. Now that one loosen a few teeth and made him spit out blood.

"You will not slander the Royal family any further!" the Maester proclaimed as he nodded for Ser Payne to ease off on the attack.

"_**Kill the traitor!"**_

_**"Hang him!"**_

_**"Death! Death! Death!"**_

The crowd's chant gave Ned some time to recover as the Maester Pycelle looked at Ned and sighed.

"It appears that the traitor is unrepentant!" the Grand Maester declared in a loud voice for the crowd, but motion them to quiet down. He turn theatrically to the Queen.

"His fate is in your hands now, Your Grace. What would you have us do with him?"

Cersei made a great showing of being deep in thought before she looked between Eddard and Pycelle.

"Tell me, Grand Maester, do you think the traitor lord is salvageable? Though he does not deserve it, he was my King and Husband's best friend. I am inclined to show leniency."

The crowd suddenly stopped demanding his head as they too considered Ned's role in relation to Robert.

"_**The Black! Let him take the Black!**_"

Ned could only scoff at the obvious plant in the crowd. He knew that they wanted to avoid war with the North as they had to prepare for Stannis and Renly, perhaps even Dorne. Naturally, the only way they could get him to the North and take the black was via armed guard and sailing from the Westerland. Cersei had layed it out that much.

"Perhaps the Black would be best." Cersei made a great showing of her mercy, much to the adoration of the mob. She then turned to her bastard son.

"But I do not rule here, what will be your verdict, my son?"

Joffrey was still looking at Ned with barely concealed rage before his mouth opened up in a snarl.

"No."

Cersei, who had obviously planned Ned's sentence in advance, found herself at a loss for words when Joffrey disagreed with her. He could also make out the tighter grip on Margery's chair and the alarmed look on Pycelle and the dwarf's faces.

"Nephew, I really think-"

"Silence Dwarf!" Joffrey glared at his uncle who was visible angry at the public insult. As if it physically hurt him, Tyrion sat back down.

"Son, think abo-"

"You too, mother!" Joffrey ordered, his tone daring his mother to speak another word.

"I have heard your counsel, and letting him take the Black is too honorable an end for this traitor!"

Ned closed his eyes and knew his fate then.

The crowd grew silent as their king rose from his dais and drew the blade his sister had gifted him. He stalked toward Ned, raised it high in the air and brought it down with all of his strength. Ned glared defiantly at his would-be executioner, he would have to give the boy credit for at least doing the deed himself. However, he knew something was wrong when the angle of the blade aimed not for his head, but instead the chains that were holding him down.

"Wha?" Ned gasped out even as the Kingsguard drew their swords.

"Hold!" Joffrey held up a hand and continued to glare at Ned. The Kingsguard never dropped their guard but they did stay their hand.

"What is this, boy?" Ned asked, his curiosity getting the best of him. He could see the same confusion on Cersei face.

"I stand by what I say, taking the Black is too good for you, you can regain honor that way," Joffrey began as he glared at Ned venomously. "Death is also too easy of a way out for you."

"Torture is it, boy?" Ned sneered and looked down at the smaller of the two.

"Torture? No, torture is also too lenient," Joffrey to the muttering gasp of the crowd stepped in close to Ned, making his Kingsguard move in closer as well.

"I want you to forever live with the shame at _your_ failure to protect my father and the humiliation for gullibly believing treasonous words."

Ned frowned then and glared at Joffrey. "_My_ shame, boy? _You_ speak to me of shame when you sit on that throne?"

"Yes, shame," Joffrey leveled his longsword at Ned throat. "I, for one, do not believe you killed my father, so you are innocent of that."

Ned was not the only one surprised by Joffrey's declaration as he took a look at Cersei and the other nobles who seemed as stunned as he was, even as Joffrey pressed on.

"My father has often spoken of you fondly, told me how honor was your very life's blood. But most importantly, my sister believes you to be completely loyal to my deceased lord father. Poisoning him would be out of character for you, not while I had better suspects. Others who might profit from my father's death."

Once more Ned was surprised, and he began to look at Joffrey in a new light.

"More importantly, you are not a stupid man," Joffrey continued as he maintained his glare. "If you had murdered my father I highly doubt you would have stayed behind to be captured. Coincidentally, my uncles and the Master of Whispers are nowhere to be found. Any ideas where they might have gone?"

Ned could not believe his ears, hearing Joffrey mocking words. It was true that the three who had visited Robert with him that night had fled. During his time in the dungeons he had suspected in his darker moments that had they known about the assassination, perhaps even framed him for it. But he brushed those thoughts aside. They were all honorable men, and Brynden was kin to him, not by blood, but kin all the same.

"Which brings me to my next point," Joffrey glare turned murderous almost instantly "You believed their LIES and slander about my mother and, most importantly, MY lineage."

"The proof is irrefutable boy!" Ned argued as he looked at Joffrey and, try as he might, he did not see any Baratheon features in him. "You are not of Robert!"

"Horseshit!" Joffrey spat as the tip of his blade bit lightly into Ned skin. "You have been played for a fool and do not even realize it! They got you to turn against the crown with their fake evidence and a well crafted mummer's tale. My father had claimed you were a smart man, I am beginning to doubt that."

Joffrey words, as much as he hate to admit it, made a certain amount of sense if he thought of Stannis and Renly in a treacherous light. Ned for once found himself beginning to doubt. Once more he searched the evidence and his mind turned to Robert's supposed first daughter. Mordred was almost a mirror image of Robert, NOT the drunken stupor or whoring, but the young Robert he had fostered with in the Vale. Even Jon had written glowingly in his journals of Mordred and how often she made him think of a smarter Robert. Then there was the girl's great strength and viciousness in combat. The sheer fury he had seen her display during the melee and her absolute joy reveling in it.

Could Joffrey be right? Had he been played for a fool? Was he complicit in the murder of his friend?

The other three children were different enough from Robert in temperament to be doubtful, but for those that knew Mordred it was almost certain they were father and daughter, that very same daughter who shared similar features with her younger siblings.

Slowly, Ned began to review the information he had been given by Robert brothers. While he had evidence of Mordred's plot against Robert's bastards, could there be other reasons she got rid of them? Perhaps she did not want Robert's bastards to hang around her family? The gods know how often his own wife wanted to get rid of Jon, and that was only one bastard in Winterfell. Robert had more, much more than was socially acceptable.

"I see you are finally thinking," Joffrey spat at Ned feet but he did not move his sword.

"Your vile accusation, that you and my uncles threw at my family feet could also apply to your own daughters and sons. I have seen your children. Ironically enough it is the bastard that you sired that has the most in common with you. Do you now suspect your wife of infidelity?"

Ned began his counter argument that Joffrey had left an opening in. "According to the lineage books, whenever a Lannister and Baratheon met, their hair turns out Raven color, not gold."

To Ned's confusion Joffrey simply threw his head back and laughed mockingly. "You hear that people? HAIR COLOR is the reason why he thinks I am not of my father!"

The crowd also began to mock and jeer at Ned.

"I suppose the ancient Starks of old used to think the same as well until the first one with a different hair color entered into your line," Joffrey sneered. "You realize there is a first time for everything."

Ned blinked then. Could he had been wrong? No, the proof was irrefutable… right?

"I will now give my judgment," Joffrey raised his voice as he lowered the sword in front of the mob.

"Eddard Stark, for failure in protecting my father, I now strip you of your post as the Hand and the title Warden of the North. Your son Robb is now the new Warden of the North and will take over your position. Ice will be returned and handed over to your son by one of my trusted men. You will leave here in disgrace for believing slanderous lies and word will be sent to all four corners of the kingdom of your folly and gullibility."

The crowd was stunned at their king's proclamation. Cersei looked ashen.

"Joffrey you cannot let him g-"

"It is DONE, mother!" Joffrey turned and glared at Cersei, quieting her.

"What is to stop me from joining Stannis?" Ned did not know why he said what he said. He could see Cersei and the Kingsguard tensing.

"I have made my declaration, if you join Stannis then it would be Robb's duty to to bring you to justice," Joffrey sneered once more at Ned.

"If Robb joins you then that would mean the North are traitors as well, and we will deal with you accordingly."

Ned could only blink, he could not believe he was thinking it but perhaps there was some of Robert in his boy after all. Could he have been wrong? Was this a plot by Stannis and Renly? They did leave without warning him...

"And my men?"

"My sister taught me to never be needlessly cruel so they will be released with you," Joffrey nodded to a guard who walk in the direction of the dungeons.

"Live out the rest of your life knowing you failed my father. His blood is on _your_ hands."

The words cut into Ned heart deeply.

Then Joffrey turned his back on the Ned and walked away, the guards also leaving with Joffrey. Cersei couldn't seem to turn her glare away from him, but did not say anything.

"Your men will meet you by the North gate, traitor. Ser Payne will accompany you to give back your family's blade to your son Robb," a Gold cloak whom Ned was unfamiliar with spoke harshly.

Suddenly a very dark part of Ned wondered if Stannis and Renly wanted him dead so the North would march with them to take the throne. Yet he knew Stannis was an honorable man, but… as loath as he was to admit it, Joffrey also showed honor and perhaps wisdom.

What should he do? That thought would plague him throughout his entire journey home.

TBC...

AN: Do I need to explain the twisted irony in this chapter? I mean we been together this long right? At this point you guys either quit this story in disgust or have jumped through enough hoops to justified it. Either that or just say fuck it cause you enjoy it! I hope it's the last one! This story is lols with plot, so it will be moving in that direction if you seen it

As for my hiatus, I was pretty much broken about the death, unlike some stronger people, my recovery took longer. But I am back now, and this is the first thread I am going to work with until I feel like moving on, so please don't leave reviews asking for an update to another story.

However, if you do have a review to give pertaining to this story please do so! As always C+C welcomed Reviews appreciated!

Up Next: Jaime- Jon (No stop the fan girl screams!) and Arthur pov.


	19. Book 2: Chapter 8

Game of Thrones belong to G.R.R.M

Fate Stay Night belong to Type Moon

A Throne Nobody Wants

Book 2: Chapter 8

**SPECIAL NEW YEARS CHAPTER! SINCE I MISSED CHRISTMAS! ENJOY AND REMEMBER DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE!**

_Special thanks to Mingyu for editing this for me, the fic Whisperer!_

+++ Jaime – Harrenhal +++

_You are to stay there and ensure Pendragon does not move against us. I am already on my way to King's Landing._

_Your Father,_

_Tywin Lannister_

Jaime gripped the letter from his father in his hands once more. It has been three weeks since Robert Baratheon's death and two weeks since they even got wind of it, including the scandal with what happened to Lord Stark. He had received this letter just as he was about to set out to be with his sister and protect his… _nephew_. Then there's that red streak appeared in the sky which the people believed to be an ill omen.

While everything in Jaime's body screamed for him to go to his sister side, his father's words weighed him down like an anchor. He had to settle with sending a raven to his beloved sister to explain what had happened. He doubted she'd be pleased, but father's word was something that even she dared not challenge. Closing his eyes he tried to remember what his sister's skin felt like, the taste of her lips, the taste of her, how tightly she always clung to him when he was inside of her. How perfectly they connected.

Yet, try as he might, Jaime could not recall those memories with the clarity he once could and that vexed him. He had not touched his sister in that intimate a manner since his trip to Winterfell and that angered him greatly.

"Ragggh!" Jaime raged as he drew his sword and slashed at the flowers in the private garden within the inner sanctum that was reserved for Pendragon and his wives.

"Is something wrong, Ser Jaime?" a soft, melodious voice cut through his anger and he turned around to see the dark-haired beauty entering the large area.

"Lady Lorelei," Jaime straightened, schooling his face to greet the Pendragon mistress warmly. Her dark blue eyes locked with his green ones before she shrugged it off as she began the task of straightening out the now destroyed bushes he had just hacked apart.

"I heard your battle cry, but I did not think flowers were what you were bravely protecting us form," Lorelei teased softly as she knelt down and began to gather the various broken flowers.

Jaime immediately felt guilty and sheathed his sword to go about helping the woman. He had initially resented the dark-haired beauty's presence in Harrenhal, much less in the presence of his da- niece. But Mordred had insisted that he talk to Arthur's mistress, saying that they might find a lot in common. At the time he had thought his niece was trying to play matchmaker between them, so out of boredom he did and was surprised at how easily they conversed.

Jaime had to admit that Lorelei's friendship in these past few months had eased his loneliness and calmed his thoughts. While he could acknowledge that Lorelei was a breathtaking beauty on par with his own sister, he did not feel any lust toward her. No, what Lorelei and he had was something more comfortable. A sort of kindred companionship. He could not help but feel that she completely understood him during the times he had shared stories of his burden, his conflict with his knightly code and his efforts to live up to its tenants.

It was almost as if they were cut from the same cloth, and Jaime meant that in the most platonic way possible. Even now, they did not talk as he set about helping her. Eventually they cleared up the damage he had created and sat down next to each other.

"Star for your thoughts, Ser Jaime?" Lorelei was the first to break the silence as she leaned back to enjoy the cool breeze that was sweeping through Harrenhal.

"I'm a Lannister, our thoughts are worth Dragons," Jaime japed and elicited a soft laugh from the beauty. Unlike the rest of Arthur's legitimate wives who took to wearing a dark blue, Lorelei wore a mix of sky blue and black. The black really helped to accentuate the paleness of her skin.

The two sat in companionable silence once more before Lorelei spoke up.

"Things have been tense around here, has it not?"

"That's what happens when Kings die," Jaime responded bluntly and was not surprised that Lorelei didn't even flinch.

There was a general cover of uncertainty that had settled over Harrenhal, and news of imminent war with the remaining Baratheon brothers loomed on the horizon. Already Pendragon was organizing his forces in preparation. The thought of it made Jaime grip his sword once more. He should be in King's Landing with his sister, not here to finish off the last Targaryen if he or the North proved treacherous. There was no guarantee that Pendragon would join the North if they attacked, but there was also no guarantee he would dismiss the rumors and could possibly decide to waylay the Westerland armies.

"Perhaps. But if there is war, I feel that it is safer and more stable here than out there, don't you think?" Lorelei responded with an arched eyebrow and damn if she wasn't right.

Despite the threat of war, business was still going on as usual as the smallfolk went about their lives. The newer troops had been on constant rotation battling bandits far and wide since Pendragon took over and so became experienced and bloodied. Nothing like the fresh-faced levies that were probably being assembled right now by his father and the rebels.

"Enjoy it while you can," Jaime scoffed as he straighted himself and stretched. "You weren't around during the last war. You don't know how horrible it could get, what it does to men."

"Oh, I can imagine," Lorelei spoke up sadly. "But it needs to be done. Peace cannot be enforced without strength of arms, and say what you will, but I believe Lord Pendragon's forces will be more than ready for war. No matter the direction it comes from."

"Oh? You think he would join up with the rebels?" Jaime asked Lorelei with a raised eyebrow. "That would be treason you know."

"Hardly," this time Lorelei scoffed at Jaime, causing the Kingsguard to smile.

"I meant if King Joffrey decided he wanted to have Sansa arrested, he could expect my Lord to resist that order no matter the forces assembled against him. The same will hold true if Lord Stark were to try the same ultimatum regarding Princess Mordred."

"Then that means everyone would be his enemies," Jaime gave Lorelei an arched look. "That's not a very smart thing for him to do then, don't you think?"

"Everyone has always been his enemy, or have you forgotten that he was an exiled prince?" Lorelei smirked impishly.

"Besides, he has dragons."

Jaime had to concede her point. Now wasn't that another hellish surprise. Mordred had immediately locked down everyone that had witnessed Daenerys' little display of power, and upon pain of death ordered them not to reveal the creature's presence. Even he was not safe from her threat, it was very real. He saw it in her eyes and knew that she'd kill him if he did not swear it on Cersei's life. He could understand her concern. The dragons, for all their ferocity, were still the size of ponies. Nothing like the hulking beasts he read about, which meant they could still be killed.

But Mordred had explained the pros to keeping it a secret as well, that they would benefit Joffrey and his sister eventually. So he swore the oath and intended to keep it. Besides, it was nice knowing something his father did not. He could not predict how his father would react to the presence of dragons. Tywin might even demand them for himself, and Arthur would refuse. There would be war, and after seeing how Arthur's men fought, he doubted that his family could attain a solid victory.

Not to mention the looming threat of Stannis and Renly. No, it would do no good to tell his father at all.

The two sat in more companionable silence before Lorelei got up. "It is almost time for me to attend to Princess Mordred, I… I would not be so worried about your sister and nephew. If Lord Stark is the man of honor we believe him to be, then he would not join the rebellion unless he was absolutely sure. Nor would Lord Arthur."

"Wait," Jaime stood up, halting the Lady of House Lake in her tracks as she turned to look at him inquiringly.

"Do you believe the accusations against my sister?"

Needless to say, the accusation was also levied against himself. Lorelei stood in contemplation for a bit before she made eye contact with him, and he knew then that she believed.

"I feel that it does not matters if the accusation is lies or truth," Lorelei answered finally, but saw that Jaime wished for her to elaborate.

"The only thing that matters is if _King_ Joffrey rules justly with wisdom or not. If he does, then the people will support him and he'll gain more allies. If he rules cruelly or frivolously, then people will rise up either way. His legitimacy does not matter. Robert's Rebellion proved this."

Jaime face grew contemplative and he sighed.

"I have kept you from my niece for too long. Good day, My Lady."

Lorelei stared at him for a moment before she closed the distance between them.

"Perhaps when next you find yourself restless and thinking of attacking defenseless flowers, you'd seek me out first. I have been practicing my sword skills, so you'd not find me so easy a foe."

"Oh? You're taking up arms now?" Jaime chuckled at the thought of this dainty-looking girl fighting. Even Galina looked more hardened than her. "Finally trading in needles for sword?"

"Not quite," the raven-haired beauty replied with an impish grin. "I'm sure I can master both. I'm a woman of many talents after all."

"Except cooking."

"In that field, Sansa has no equal," Lorelei admitted without hesitation.

"I'd guess, if I am free, I could give you some pointers," Jaime finally offered. It would help him take his mind off of his sister after his duties were finished.

"Or perhaps it is _I_ who will give you pointers on your sword work." Lorelei retorted with a teasing smile, before she inclined her head politely in his direction and left.

Left alone again, Jaime thoughts turned back to his current situation. He wondered if Arthur trusted him enough to lead any of Pendragon's forces. Though if there was war he'd more than likely be joining his father in the front lines, in charge of Lannister men. Until then, he was stuck here playing nursemaid for his niece.

Jaime thoughts turned back to the dark beauty from the Vale. Perhaps watching the girl fumble around with a sword would relieve him of some boredom.

+++ Jon – Fist of the First Men +++

Jon Snow, the infamous bastard of the north let loose a low growl as he went about tightening up the Night's Watch camp. The cold bit harshly against Jon face as he continued to strengthen the fortifications, his beard doing little to protect him from it. Like most of his brothers in the Night's Watch, he was covered in layered clothes from head to toe. He felt humbled standing where the First Men once stood, before the Andals arrived and wiped them out. Though it was said that the blood of the First Men still ran through Stark blood, which meant it ran through his too, being a bastard of Lord Eddard Stark and all.

"Doing alright there Jon?" Samwell (Sam for short) Tarly, his best friend, asked him as he walked up next to Jon carrying a few freshly-carved stakes.

"Just freezing my bollocks off like the rest." Jon replied through chattering teeth as he set the next stake into the ground, the pointy end pointing outward. And cold it was, but there was a reason why they were out here. The Great Ranging, they called it, the largest force in living memory to ever venture out Beyond the Wall. Their mission was to find out why their scouts kept turning up missing, more information on Wildling movements and their Queen Beyond the Wall, and finally why corpses were coming back to life.

Jon noticed that his friend did not seem as bothered by the bitter cold.

"Looks like you have no trouble staying warm."

Samwell blushed in embarrassment a bit before looking down at the snow. "It's the fat, helps keep me warm."

"Well well, looks like Ser Piggy might've have had the right idea all along, eh!" a brother who overheard Samwell's explanation jeered. Like most of the times before, the joke made at Jon's friend drew mean-spirited laughter.

Jon balled his fists, wanting to defend his friend but decided against it. The Lord Commander Jeor Mormont was here. The large man from Bear Island had decided to take Jon under his wing, and even gave him the Valyrian blade he carried. Now THAT had been a stroke of fortune he had not expected. The Lannisters, for all of their wealth, had yet to acquire such a blade and here he was with a king's ransom on his hip. Though Jon did have some niggling feeling he was being shown preferential treatment by the Lord Commander due to his father.

"Any signs of Qhorin yet? He's late." The Lord Commander grumbled as he paced back and forth anxiously.

Qhorin Halfhand was supposed to bring another hundred men to the Fist of the First Men before they pushed onward. Jon remembered the various abandoned Wildling settlements standing lifelessly. What disturbed their scout leader at the time was how they had seemed abandoned for quite some time. The Wildling camps were usually kept in disarray, but true signs of living were hard to come by. Why would they need to do such a thing? Wildlings were supposed to be stupid and barbaric, yet if Jon didn't know better, he would say that the camp was left there to fool the Night's Watch Rangers.

Again, why would the Wildings do that?

"Any words from your scouts yet, Theron?" Lord Commander Mormont asked the commander of the rangers. "It's been six hours since we were supposed to link up with Qhorin."

"Not as of yet, Lord Commander." the sinewy, weak-chin looking man replied. He appeared to be greatly agitated by the lack of reports as well. "Matter of fact, none of my scouts had reported in for a while now."

Lord Commander Mormont let out a loud grunt to acknowledge the Ranger's report.

"Make sure your men stay extra vigilant! I've got a bad feeling about this, Halfhand is never this late."

Jon could not help but agreed with the Lord Commander's assessment. All throughout the day a sense of uneasiness permeated the air, and he was not the only one who noticed. Looking around the camp, he could see men fidgeting, some even making sure their blades were sharpened. The blizzard was getting harsher as well, visibility was at an all-time low.

"You think-," Samwell began, but looked around at the camp and lowered his voice to a whisper. "You think something might've happen to Qhorin and the reinforcements?"

Jon looked up and saw Samwell's fearful expression and decided to reassure the boy.

"Sam, Qhorin's a living legend. And what's more he has a hundred brothers watching his back. He'll be here."

Samwell looked somewhat reassured by Jon words as he nodded slowly before Jon put a hand on his large friend's shoulder.

"Long as we do our job, we'll be back at Castle Black in no time at all. Perhaps I'll write my sister and ask her to send more of those biscuits you enjoyed so much, eh?" Jon smiled as he saw the delighted expression of his friend's face.

"Truly?" Samwell had to wiped the drool that was leaking down his cheek before it froze. He looked to Jon in embarrassment, and Jon could only give his friend a knowing smirk.

"Better make sure there are enough for the rest of us, Lord Bastard," Jon's other friend, a tall thick-necked stocky boy named Grenn, demanded loudly.

"Aye, and us too!"

"You wanna make friends with the right sort, best not forget us neither."

Suddenly, Jon was bombarded by the rest of his Night's Watch brothers demanding that he request enough for the rest of them. He could not help but let out a small chuckle, if only his beloved little sister knew how far the fame of her cooking had reached. Even the Lord Commander gave him a look that all but ordered him to include him in the request.

"Alright, Alright, I'll do what I can! She's a lady of a great house now, so no promises." Jon replied and was jeered at good-naturedly by the men. Initially he really had no intention of writing Sansa, despite his promise to Sam.

Simply put, Jon did not want to bother Sansa. She was married now, and to a Targaryen now of all people. He recalled her letter, asking him to come to her wedding, but he never even bothered asking the Lord Commander for permission. He was still too new to the Night's Watch and had to prove to his brothers that he was no different than any of them.

So Jon had written to Sansa with heartfelt congratulatory words and wished her the best in life. Though he did promise her that if her husband hurt her in any way, Night's Watch or no, he would make Arthur pay. To his surprise, she sent him a box of flavored biscuits, what she called "cookies," to the Wall for him. What made those biscuit-cookies special to him was that she had baked it herself. The gesture warmed his heart. Jon knew that as Sansa grew older she really only ever personally cooked for special occasions. He was happy she felt he warranted such treatment, though she lamented in her letter that it was a poor substitute for her wedding cake. But that would not have fared well on the long journey north. Even the biscuits she sent would not be nearly good as when they were first baked, but they would last longer and she apologized in advance if they arrived stale.

To Jon, it was the best thing he had eaten since he left for the Wall. Naturally he shared them with his brothers in black and they too agreed with his assessment.

"Alright enough, focus!" Lord Jeor ordered as the men to stop harassing Jon and get back to their duties.

Which was just in time for the first scream to pierce through the loud, cold wind in the distance followed a few seconds later by another, and then another.

"My scouts!" Ranger Thoren head snapped in the direction of the screams. First it was to the North, then to the south, in all directions that he had sent his men.

"The enemy's here!" Lord Commander Mormont bellowed as he too drew his sword, when suddenly the screams died down and ambient snarling could be heard.

Jon had already drawn _Longclaw_, his sword, before he heard a whistling sound and turned to see an arrow protruding from Grenn's eye, the tip protruding out from the back of his head. Jon saw Sam fumbling with his own sword as Jon deflected several more incoming arrows. Jon reached down for a shield and tossed it to Sam just in time for an arrow to strike it. A few seconds later and his friend would have been dead.

"Jon!" Sam yelled in fright as he desperately raised the shield to block the oncoming arrows.

"AHHHHH-grahhhkk!"

Jon turned to the sound of the scream and saw something on the back of one of his brothers, it's mouth on his throat as blood colored the snow. It was an undead creature, a wight like the one he killed in Castle Black! Beyond, Jon saw the Rangers returning fire into the blizzard, most likely aiming back in the direction of whoever, or whatever, was firing the arrows.

"Haaaaah!" Jon roared viciously as he struck at the wight, cutting it from the shoulders to the navel. He then reached for one of the thin logs that was fueling their cooking fire.

"Use fire, it's weak against the flames!" Jon shouted for his other brothers.

With that Jon jammed the flaming piece of wood against the face of the wight, igniting it and burning away the blue glow in its eye. He saw some of the other brothers take up fiery logs, while others began to light up the arrows to fire into the hazy snow storm.

Moments later the snarling stopped, as did the arrows that were peppering their camp. The harsh cold, which had been blowing about ferociously moments ago, mysteriously calmed. As if by magic, the dense fog that covered the area began to roll back from the encampment to reveal the horrors that surrounded them.

Undead by the hundreds stood outside their camp, unmoving. Their eyes glowed an eerie blue and yet the fog continued to peel back, revealing more and more of their numbers. Numbers that stretched to the horizon in all directions save one, their path back to the Wall had less wights there.

"So the stories were true," Lord Commander Jeor said. If he was affected by the sight he didn't show it and instead he readied his weapon, bracing for an attack.

As one the wights swarmed forward and breached their fortification, moments later the sounds of men fighting for their lives rang throughout the area once again.

"Form up and march! We make for the Wall! " Lord Mormont bellowed loudly as he cut down several skeletal wights, breaking them apart with his sheer strength. In the back drop the horn sounded for the retreat. "We must warn the Seven Kingdoms!

"Jon!" Sam shouted even as a wight nearly skewered him, but to Jon's surprise the large boy used his shield and pushed it back before bashing its skull in.

"Augh! Take that and THAT!"

"Sam!" Jon brought _Longclaw_ up and smashed the skeletal wight that had just leaped at Sam, who was still hammering into the first corpse. The sound of the strike made Sam look up, even as the wight's skull bounced off his head.

"Wahhhh!" Sam screamed as he jumped back and continued to retreat with the his other brothers. He saw another ranger try to mount a horse but was quickly pulled down, both horse and man butchered by the undead fiends. The dying screams of the horse and its rider were horrific.

"That's it! Steady men, keep moving! Don't stop!" Lord Mormont encouraged as he was in the rear, fighting off the worst of the wights' attack while Jon and the a few other rangers fought at the front.

That's when it happened, a group of wights, armored and on undead steeds, rode forward and slammed into the group of Night's Watchmen, killing several instantly while charging deep into their ranks. Their proximity allowed Jon a clearer look of what struck them. It was like a wight, but not, their body was pale, wholly intact. Their eyes the coldest blue he had ever seen, and in their hands was a strange type of spear that looked as if it was made of ice.

"For the Watch!" Theron shouted as he raised his sword and charged the stationary armored wights.

To Jon's surprise, when an armored wight parried Theron the blade in Theron's hand shattered like ice. The loss of his weapon must have shocked the ranger, as he looked to his hand before the wight stabbed his ice spear through the top of Theron's head.

"Jon, look out!" Sam yelled as Jon turned to see one of those armored wight baring down on him. How could they ride so quietly?! Knowing it was a futile gesture, but lead by years of ingrained training, he raised his blade to block. To his amazement, his weapon did not shatter like Theron's, instead there was a screaming hiss as the two weapons met.

However, the armored wight was still on horseback, and with that force and momentum Jon was unable to stay on his feet. Before the armored wight could follow up its attack it stopped suddenly, its body spasming as if in pain before crumbling into ice itself.

"Wha?"

"Th-that worked!" Sam appeared in Jon's vision, helping him up as even the armored wights stopped in surprised at the death of their comrade.

"They're not wights, they're White Walkers!" Sam yelled excitedly as he took out some pieces of dragon glass that they had found earlier. "They can only be killed by dragon glass or weapons forged in dragon fire!"

As if a great secret had been revealed, the armored wights- no, White Walkers and all of the surrounding wights screamed before they charged the group with renewed frenzy.

"Ya got anymore of them glass, boy?!" Lord Commander bellowed as Jon looked down and remembered that his blade was one of a rare few made of dragon fire. Realizing that, he made to fight toward his Lord Commander to return the blade.

Just as Jon almost reached the Lord Commander, an icy spear protruded from his front, making the heavy set man stare down at his stomach. Jon looked beyond his Lord Commander to see White Walkers on foot fighting against the surviving Night Watchmen, his eyes made contact with the creature to see it smirk.

Enraged at the cowardly attack, Jon let lose a scream and charged the White Walker that killed his Commander.

The White Walker made to pull out the ice spear, but found it unable to as Lord Commander Mormont was grabbing onto it with bloody hands, which allowed Jon to strike at the creature's head. Unlike when Sam stabbed his White Walker with dragon glass, the blow instantly shattered the creature, sword and all.

Jon watched as Lord Mormont fell on his back gasping, even as his skin started to turn blue.

"Lord Commander!" Jon knelt down by the man in an effort to ease his pain and felt the Lord Commander's hand on his front coat.

"W-Warn...them..."

Jon watched as the life faded from his Lord Commander's eyes, only to see a blue light fill it. The body start to twitch as if coming back to life, and with a scream of pure anguish Jon used _Longclaw_ to decapitate his Commander.

With the death of their Commander, the rest of the Night Watch broke ranks and began to scatter like quicksilver. Cries of the living could still be heard as the wights or white walkers got to them.

Jon instantly made a decision and cut his way to Tarly, who was staring numbly at the corpse of their friend, Eddison Tollett. The roguish man had been stabbed with dragon glass by Sam and apparently that might have kept him from turning into a wight.

"Sam, we need to run, _NOW_!" Jon grabbed the his friend by the arm and yanked hard to get him to move.

Jon was thankful the wights were not packed in like an army, but instead spread out, it gave him a chance to move and strike down those that came close as he and Sam fled from the battle. He had to warn his brothers!

Jon and Sam ran. They ran and cut down wights throughout the night. Even when there were no more wights they continued to move, and even when the light of dawn chased away the darkened skies.

It was midday, the day following the disaster at the Fist of the First Men, when he heard a strange noise behind him. Turning around, _Longclaw_ at the ready, he saw that it was Sam who had collapsed face first onto the ground, unmoving.

"No, no, _no_!" Jon rushed to Sam's side and knelt down by his friend. Now that he had stopped moving, he felt fatigue hit him like a block of falling ice. The fighting of yesterday and their push through the night finally caught up with him as he began to feel the burn in his muscles, the numbing feeling on his face and how thirsty he really has gotten. Jon rolled his friend over with great effort, as Samwell was a large boy, and saw that his friend's eyes were half-lidded.

"Damn it, Sam! Don't you dare stop here, you hear me?!" Jon tried to yell but his throat was too dry and parched from breathing in the cold air. He took a quick sip of the ale in his wineskin and noted that there was not much left. Their supplies were with their horses, abandoned at the Fist.

"J- Just go on without me, Jon. Warn the others." Sam whispered in a croaky voice, even as Jon felt his eyes wanting to close and rest like Sam.

"A-at least I manage to take out a Whitewalker, eh. Think my father would be proud of me?"

"He'd be a fool if he's not," Jon assured his friend as he tried to open his wineskin, but was stopped by his friend.

"No Jon, you'll need it... Go warn our brothers, don't let our deaths... be in vain."

"Damn you, Tarly! You are coming with me and we will tell them together! Do you hear me?!" Jon yelled desperately at his friend whose eyes were starting to close.

"Sam! SAM!"

With renewed determination Jon forced himself to his feet and struggled to pull Sam to his.

"You are going to get your fat ass up and hike back to the Wall with me even if I have to carry your sorry ass there myself!"

Digging deep, Jon was able to get Sam across his shoulders and took slow, stuttering steps forward. Unfortunately, while Jon was rewarded for his efforts, his body had hit its limit. After an hour, Jon was unable to hold his friend up anymore and the two tumbled heavily to the ground.

"D- amn it..." Jon cursed, face-down in the snow, and tried to force himself back up to his feet but found that he was no longer able to. The fatigue that he felt earlier came back with a vengeance, and in greater force. Though his mind was willing him to move, the flesh refused to respond to his call. He wanted to scream out loud in frustration, but all that came out was a low groan.

In the ensuing silence, Jon could hear the icy-cold wind blow through, caressing his face tauntingly. He tried to turn his head to Sam's position at least, but could not even move his neck to do so. Suddenly a shadow fell across him. It could only be wights. With strength reserves he did not know he could even still call upon, Jon weakly tried to draw _Longclaw_. But something tugged at his hip and relived him of his weapon.

"Ah Ah, Crow," A female voice said in thick Wildling accent. "None of that now."

There was a moment of silence as Jon couldn't even muster the strength to acknowledge them. He felt something nudge his head in a not-so-gentle manner.

"So whatcha doing out here on your face?"

Jon remained silent, not caring to answer the Wildling.

"Oy, Crow, ya hear me? You're not dead, I can see ya breathing. Ya being mighty rude."

"Roll him over, and you check on the fat crow," A second female voice ordered, this one sounding a bit huskier than the first one, though with the same accent. Jon heard more footsteps marching away from him after that, and he groaned in protest as he was rolled onto his back.

It took Jon a few moments to make out the faces of the two women staring down at him. The first thoughts that came to Jon's mind was how pretty the two were. One was clearly older than the other but not by much. The one to his right was wearing some sort of dyed blue armor he had never seen before, with a strip of fur running from her shoulder to her hip. She had long hair, though it was tied up in a ponytail, and she was casually leaning on her spear. The girl to his left was younger. She had a thick fur coat on her with a hood covering her head, though he did make out a touch of copper red peeking out from under its cover. As the two looked him over, he found himself both glad and frightened by their presence.

"Oh, he's a pretty one," the red-haired one said after she finished eyeing him. "Think I'd remember someone like him from the group we ambushed."

"Nah, judging by the sloppy tracks, he came from the Fists." the dark-haired pretty one said, jerking a thumb back to point in said direction.

"Think he ran into _them_?" the copper-haired girl questioned the spear wielder, who shrugged in response.

"Hey Culian, the fat one is almost dead. Want me to finish him off, be all merciful and shit?" A masculine voice could be heard asking. It was the pony-tailed woman who responded, looking in the direction of Sam.

"Might as we-"

"Please..." Jon forced himself to talk, his voice sound soft and scratchy to his own ears. "Please, sav-e… him."

"Ya want us to save the fat one?" the red-haired girl asked with a curious look. "Why should we? He's fat and heavy to carry around. Not worth it really, you'd probably have all the information we need."

"My… friend. Please… beg…you."

"Well, I'll be, a polite crow," the redhead said in amusement. "Most of you lot don't be using them polite talk up here, you some type of southern lordling or something?"

"North… not… southern," Jon angrily protested, which seem to delight the two women.

"Boyo," the dark-haired one spoke up with a roguish grin. "Where we are, everyone south of the wall is a southerner!"

Jon grit his teeth as he heard laughter from the men in the area, but glared at the two women laughing mockingly in front of him.

"Aww, the baby crow looks angry. Hey wait a minute," the redhead hooded girl leaned down and played around with Jon face a bit. "Dun he look a bit like that other crow we saved a while back?"

"Oh, that one?" The woman, Culian looked down at Jon in contemplation. "Ya know, he does kind of look like him, specially round the eye."

"That one was the Stark Lord's brother, wasn't he?" The red-haired girl looked down with wide eyes at Jon.

"This is probably his son or nephew. Hmm. I guess we'd better let her highness decide," the Culian said with a shrug as she motioned at two men, who promptly dragged Jon to his feet. They bound his hands, but helped support him. One of them even held up a flask to drink from, the taste was sweet like milk.

"Take the fat one too," Culian ordered, making Jon turn to bow his head in gratitude. However, his gesture was laughed at as the pretty girl patted her companion on the back.

"Look at him, batting his pretty eyes for favors. You better steal him before her highness does. You know how she loves unique things, especially if they're pretty."

"Aye, I just might have to," the red-haired one agreed before giving Jon a look that both excited and terrified him.

"Got him Tormund? Or do you need my help?"

Jon saw Sam being carried by a large, heavyset man with a bushy red beard and messy hair. This was the first time he had seen any type of armor on the wildlings. Looking around, he noticed that those in heavy coats with the hoods did not wear armor, while the others did.

Wildlings weren't supposed to be this advance, were they?

Still, Jon was grateful for their help as they made a makeshift stretcher for Sam and tied him to it and dragged him with a horse.

Upon a second inspection, he realized that it was a horse from the Night's Watch, the marking indicating that it belonged to the Shadow Tower group. The Wildlings had spoken of an ambush, was that what happened to Qhorin?

Despite how friendly they'd been and how they had saved Sam and himself, Jon realized that the Wildlings were still their enemies.

+++ Arthur +++

The moment the first sunbeam touched his body was the moment Arthur slowly started awaken from his slumber. As often was the case nowadays, he did not want to leave his bed, the presence in bed next to him was warm and comforting. Opening his eyes slowly, Arthur saw the sky was just beginning to hint at a new dawn. The sight was one he personally enjoyed. The dawn had not changed much except for the red comet streaking through the sky. Some had called it an ill omen as it happened to coincide with Robert Baratheon's death.

Arthur looked to his left where his wife, Mordred, was curled up next to him, her head was resting right above his heart. He wondered if she found comfort in the rhythm of it's beating. He took a moment to drink in the sight of her, the way her golden hair, loosened from her bun, splayed all over their pillows and made her look like a sleeping angel. Not for the first time he wondered how it was that he could actually feel love for someone with the name Mordred. He came to that realization shortly after the orgy incident a few weeks back. That epiphany had shaken him to his very core.

Being who he was, what his previous life was like, Arthur had not expected to find genuine love in this new world. His plan had been to take care of Dany, make sure his blood sister was married off and well taken care of, then arrange a match for himself. Whether he loved the woman he ended up with in Essos was not an issue, the only thing that was important to him was that they were comfortable with one another, and of course sired several children to pass on his bloodline. Yet, unexpectedly, under a most unlikely chain of events (some would even say ludicrous) he won the hand of the princess of this realm via trial by combat.

"Mmmngh..." Mordred mumbled a bit before clinging to him tighter.

Arthur had to smile, she always did that, as if sensing he was about to get out of their bed. He took his right hand and slowly caressed her cheek, moving his thumb back and forth in a soothing manner. Like magic, Mordred sighed contently and relaxed her grip on him. Arthur doubted Mordred was aware of this, if she was… well, he could easily picture her being completely flustered in that little adorable way he had come to enjoy greatly.

"So strange." Arthur whispered softly to himself.

Mordred had been the name of his bastard son, also created in an unlikely chain of events (most would definitely say ludicrous). After all, how many women can claim they fathered a child? Arthur would bet the odds were astronomically, infinitely, against it. He had been distrustful of Mordred, the princess, mainly because of the shared name and similarity in coloring to the traitor. However, slowly, yet surely, somehow, some way, the princess had made the traitor a mere unpleasant memory. Mordred had no idea how he watched her from time to time, despite the size of Harrenhal he found himself running into her quite often. His wife worked hard, he noticed, doing many things that might seem insignificant but were vital in helping run this massive structure smoothly.

Sure Arthur could have done it, in fact he had anticipated such paperwork when he came back from his patrols, but there was barely any left for him to do. In fact, Arthur did not think Sansa realized just how big of an issue her training an army of smiths really was. The Smithing Guild association had intended to use any and all means to stop his third wife's endeavor, but Mordred had straightened them out somehow. Now the smiths were sending their unwanted apprentices over to Sansa. Perhaps some of them were spies. If they were, none had left his employ yet as far as he knew.

Arthur had not been lying when he told Mordred he wanted her to bear his first child, his heir. It was something he knew politically he had to do, that he would look forward to the task and grow to love her was unexpected. If anything, Arthur had expected to fall for Sansa first. After all, his female future self (now that was a _whole_ other chain of impossible events) had fallen for her male counterpart. And while he had been bedding her regularly on her safe days, as per her request to activate Avalon (_yet_ another impossibility) via the prana exchange ritual, there was no real love between them. Affection? Yes. Fondness? Certainly. But they seemed more like close friends and partners than true husband and wife. Though true to Sansa's caring nature, she greatly approved of his plan to get Mordred with child first before he started on her.

Arthur chuckled as he expertly slid out of their bed. How many men would kill to be in his position? A position he had never wanted nor desired in his past or present life.

Arthur stretched before he turned around to see Mordred's face scrunch up in a frown at his missing presence. Softly, he leaned down to give her a soft peck on the cheek and her face relaxed. Nodding to himself, Arthur went into the next room where his clothes had been discarded the night before. Putting on his Lorelei-crafted robe, he took a clean washcloth and scrubbed his face. Making sure he was presentable in the mirror, he strapped _Irisviel_ to his back and exited his chamber.

"Good morning, my lord!" Bran Stark greeted enthusiastically. He did stifle a yawn, but other than that looked happy to be in front of Arthur's chamber this morning.

"Morning, Bran," Arthur greeted his squire as his personal guards fell in line behind him. Brienne greeted him with a respectful nod. Did that woman never sleep? The boy took out a parchment to read his itinerary for the day.

"You have a meeting with Lord Seroah and Lady Gwyr an hour after breakfast regarding the troop deployment."

With this, Bran fell silent, looking at him questioningly. It appeared his good-brother could sense the tension in the air. War was coming. Arthur expected the Baratheon brothers to have struck or were about to launch a strike at Joffrey's major holdings soon. Attack was imminent, and the Westerland army was already on the move to counter any incursions.

"Go on." Arthur gave his good-brother a reassuring smile.

"Maester Rhaymon also has several letters for you that need to be answered soon, he said they are in your study. Oh, and Jory Cassel wanted a private audience with you before you supped. He said any time before that would be fine."

"Away from your sister's eyes, no doubt," Arthur shared a matching grin with his good-brother.

If Sansa knew Jory was going behind her back to complain about Arthur's inaction regarding the issue of Lord Eddard Stark, then she would no doubt chew him out. And he could say in all honesty that nobody wanted to be chewed out by the daughter of Winterfell, as she usually punished via sanctions. However, Sansa was always busy during the day, so that was the ideal time to avoid her judging eyes. Sansa, for all her busy schedule, made sure to reserve the evening time for her family.

"Is that all? Nothing from Daenerys today? I'm surprised."

Bran looked discreetly behind to confirm that Arthur's guards were out of earshot before he looked up to his good-brother.

"A-Are you still angry at her?" Bran whispered.

Arthur tightened his jaw and exhaled. Was he angry with Daenerys? Extremely, but he could understand her reasoning when she explained it to him. He still loved her and told her as much, but the point was that she drugged him, although even that alone was not an issue. That he could forgive. It was the fact that Dany got other people caught up in her selfish desire that Arthur felt crossed the line. So he had been giving her the cold-shoulder the past few weeks. Though he did approve of her request to up the rations of meat for their dragons, but outside of that they had not interacted much. Sansa had taken the orgy in stride, and after hearing about her counterpart's orgy with his counterpart, she declared that it was only fair. The only person that seemed traumatized by the experience was Lorelei, as his former First Knight had been unable to meet his gaze since. Gwynn had laughed it off and approved, then made a classless joke about Arthur being Lorelei's _first_ knight.

Oddly though, Sansa and Daenerys has been spending a lot of time together since. One could hardly be seen without the presence of the other. Lorelei, on the other hand, was Mordred's constant shadow and catered to her every whim. Though that was the deal, so he would not look too much into it.

Pretty soon Arthur reached a large square area reserved for his soldiers to train. They were not Bannerman levies, no, he had real soldiers. What he had was a mix of Rome's inspired discipline and tactics, Camelot moral and training. Already several dozen soldiers were up and about, getting warmed up.

"Alright Bran, let's see if you've improved any from the last time," Arthur drew _Irisviel_ and got into a ready stance, waiting on his squire. The boy was a quick learner, but still lacking in arm strength.

"Yes, My Lord!" Bran saluted before he drew his long sword and charged Arthur, shield first.

+++ Later +++

Arthur sat in his study looking over the letters Maester Rhaymon had left for him. He was not alone however, as Sansa was in there with him. She was dressed in a simple teal green dress with Pendragon markings as she lounged on his couch, it made her look quite fetching. Daenerys, for once, was nowhere around her, off feeding the dragons he had been told. Sansa wanted a break and was already resting here when he had arrived.

"Anything interesting?" Sansa asked casually as she enjoyed a cup of tea. She often told him she wanted to try and import some Yi Ti tea, to see if it was similar to her old native homeland.

"Just this," Arthur handed the letter his third wife. "Our presence is requested for the his grace, King Joffrey Baratheon and Lady Margery Tyrell's nuptials. Lady Tyrell was a friend of yours, was she not?"

Sansa nodded to his question before she read the letter. "Wow, in just six months? Guess they recovered from the expenses for mine and Mordred's weddings."

"It was that expensive?" Arthur asked with a raised eyebrow. He knew that it had been costly, but he had been otherwise occupied at the time. Mainly with the Riverrun men and their efforts to harass him.

"I suggest you start saving up for our children's weddings," Sansa joked with a humorous glint in her eye. "We'll all be beggared before it's over."

Arthur chuckled at her joke before he wrote a reply letter declaring that he and his wives would be there, barring anything urgent of course. Like, say, a war. Still, at the very least Mordred would not miss it.

Suddenly Sansa hesitated. "A-Anything from my father?"

Arthur shook his head and his wife looked a bit saddened by the news. By now the folly of Eddard Stark had been turned into a bawdy tavern song. Truth be told, he was not sure what to think himself, the situation sounded eerily similar to his past life. He even had the supposed cuckolding knight in his current employ. Hell, if it was true, then that meant that Mordred was a child of incest and not a princess.

Yet, his good-father, had not sent him any letters demanding he join the rebellion. It was perplexing. Having talked with Lord Stark, the Warden of the North was the sort of honorable man he would welcome at the Round Table back in his old life. However, if he was truly convinced of Queen Cersei's infidelity, why had he not marched south to link up with Stannis? No troop movements had been reported from the North, though Robb had called the Bannerman when Lord Stark was imprisoned. But Joffrey's release of Lord Stark had taken the wind right out of the North's sails.

So Arthur simply decided to be prepared, but take a neutral stance for now. Though if it was just Stannis and Renly then he could march to war with a clear conscience.

"So, no more letters from Harold Hardyng?" Sansa asked in an effort to change the subject from her father. She could only shake her head when Arthur held up a rolled parchment with seal of House Arryn on it.

"He _really_ wants Lorelei."

Arthur was also surprised by Ser Hardyng's persistence. The man had even written that he cared not if Lorelei was no longer a maiden, and promised to compensate Arthur for his loss if he were to give her to him.

"I can only politely say no so many times." Arthur growled in frustration. He set aside Hardyng's request, choosing to deal with it later as he moved onto his next letter.

"You know, you've been pretty happy lately. Any good news I should be aware of?"

Sansa turned to Arthur and smiled. "You can say that, my little experiment with Daenerys is going great, but more importantly, do you remember when we exchanged prana two days ago?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow at his wife, who just realized exactly what she said. '_Cute_.'

"Yes, I remember. I was there if you recall. And perhaps your attendant outside our room could attest as well, you were quite loud."

"S-shut up!" Sansa face turned as red as her hair. "A-anyway, Rin and I were able to figure out how I was able to appear inside my reality marble at what seemed like random intervals."

Now that intrigued Arthur as he gestured for her to continue.

"Well, it turns out I need a certain amount of prana in my body to access my Reality Marble dreamscape."

Now that was interesting.

"So all this time it was -"

"My own body's prana building up that allowed me to appeared at random intervals with Shirou and Archer. After we met the first time they actively sought me out, catching me only when I had sufficient prana."

"But we've had multiple prana-exchanges since then. Why did you only meet Rin two days ago?"

"Well," Sansa began to look away from Arthur. "I used it up on my little project I have going with your sister. However, two days ago too much work cropped up, and it was nighttime before I knew it. I went to sleep and was able to meet with Rin again."

"Amazing, they've been stuck in there for almost a month now. How do they survive? Is it even edible in there?"

Sansa smiled widely.

"That's another thing we figured out. Time passes differently in there than it does in this world. I was not even gone two hours since we last spoke from their perspective."

Arthur was stunned by the reveal and try to wrap his mind about it before giving up and chalking it up to magic.

"Oh! It nearly slipped my mind… um, Arturia wanted me to tell you something," Sansa began to looked a bit unsure if she should really mention it.

Arthur stayed quiet, knowing that this was the best way to let Sansa get over whatever was causing her to stumble.

"Something about _Waiting for Heirs is the enemy_ and… _good job_?" Sansa looked at Arthur's face, tilting her head. "Any idea what she meant by that?"

Arthur buried his head into both of his palms and dragged them down slowly. Did he know what she meant by that? Of course he did! Hunger is the enemy, so how do you beat hunger? By eating when and where you could. In other words, Arturia was encouraging him to get his wives with child as soon as possible. That and she was, for some odd reason, proud of him for doing so.

"Yes. Yes I do."

TBC.

AN:First off thank you for the overwhelming response to the last chapter. I think that's the best a chapter ever did per review count and it all pertain to the story and chapter itself. For that you have my sincere thanks!

As for this chapter, yes, what can I say, I like the Jaime-Lorelei dynamic. Told you there was a reason why I did what I did! Sometime you gotta seed stuff in advance to watch it grow into something later.

Oh and Jon! Yes the red head is who you think it is, also yes, I went totally non-canon, the wheels is as they say off the horse or something. Arthur PoV is just that, Arturia wanted to be normal, that desire was never fulfilled at the end of the Fourth war, being a guy it was easy for her to adjust , also and give into the role. I feel like I should addressed something else but no idea what! I guess this chapter speaks for itself.

Once again thanks for the review as always C+C welcome, reviews appreciated!


	20. Book 2: Chapter 9

Game of Thrones belong to G.R.R.M

Fate Stay Night belong to Type Moon

**Big time Thanks to Mingyu who edited even while he bravely battle the cold/flu! Get well soon!**

**Also, I hit my first thousand reviews out of all my fic, this made it first! What a milestone for me! Thanks guys!**

A Throne Nobody Wants

Book 2: Chapter 9

+++ Jon- Beyond the Wall +++

Jon had regained his strength thanks to the food provided by the Wildings that captured him and Sam. Speaking of his friend, Sam was doing better, having gotten real rest, food and warm milk in his belly. Sam's reaction when he finally regained coherence had been one of fear, but after seeing that they weren't going to scalp him he visibly relaxed.

However, now that Sam was up and about, Jon and Sam's wrists were bound together and they were herded like cattle. The Wildlings' pace was not harsh, if anything, he would call it pretty leisurely. He had tired to warn them about the White Walkers and how they had to stand together, but it was all for naught. The woman in charge, Culian, merely shrugged it off.

_'Don't worry yer pretty little head, boyo. Where we going we'd be safe enough.'_

Jon had doubted the pretty spear wielder's words until he started to recognize a very notable structure in the distance, one that they were heading towards. The famed Wall of the North could be made out ahead of them. He turned around and saw that Sam's eyes had likewise widened in surprise before looking at the pony-tailed woman, who seemed amused by his reaction.

"Y- You can't mean to… you can't!" Jon's face must have showed his incredulity as all of the Wildings around him began to laugh.

"He may be pretty," Culian snorted and then turned to the copper-haired girl, who he found out was name Ygritte.

"But not too bright, ain't he."

"It's okay if he's dumb," The redhead, who had her hood down, nodded in agreement before she turned to wink at him.

"I'm willing to teach him."

"I'm a learned man and probably know more than a Wilding like you," Jon retorted, and to his ever growing ire the girl only threw her head back to laugh in a manner he secretly enjoyed...but hated himself for.

"You know nothing, Jon Snow!" Ygritte answered before she held up a hand, stopping the entire group.

Jon was about to ask what was going on when more Wildlings, some in armor like the spear user, approached. Behind them were more Wildlings with bows drawn back. Since when did Wildings use tactics like this?!

A larger Wilding broke off from the group, he was of middling height with a lean build. He slowly slid his hood back to reveal a shrewd face and sharp brown eyes to match his slick, dark-brown hair. He merely gave Sam and Jon a cursory glance before sighing at the pony-tailed woman.

"_More_ crows, Culian?" The man asked in an exasperated tone, looking at the spear wielder.

"You were sent to wipe out any stragglers, not bring them back."

"Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," Culian had her spear laid across her shoulders, her stance relaxed as she hooked both her hands over the shaft to keep it pressed against the base of her smooth neck.

"Or did her highness reject your advances once again?"

Jon was able to decode some of the Wildling lingo and realized that the "Highness" they referred to was most likely the Queen Beyond the Wall. It also appeared that Culian had struck true as the man looked flustered and agitated at her jab.

"Regardless, it's almost time," the man changed the subject before turning to look at Jon and Sam.

"Kill them."

Jon tensed up and got into a defensive stance even as Sam made to stand closer to him. Suddenly a spear was interposed in front of them.

"I think not, Mance," Culian stared down the two Wildlings that were already drawing their crude-looking swords.

"Ygritte's taken a liking to him. Be a shame to waste him like that."

Jon was struck dumb when he heard the name. "Mance, as in Mance Rayder the traitor?"

"Jon!" Sam shoved his friend in the back as a warning.

"No, it's quite alright," the famous traitor of the Night Watch replied genially.

"Better to live free and be known as a traitor than live like an honorable lapdog."

"Touching as this crow reunion is-" Culian blew a strand of hair out of her face in boredom.

"-I'd like to get there in time to fight something at least!"

"Fine, kill the fat one," Mance conceded and Jon could feel his friend tense behind his back, but relaxed as Lady Culian had yet to move her spear from its protective position.

"Oh for the love of the gods, don't tell me _YOU_ fancy the fat one!"

Sam let out a sound somewhere between a cough and choke, but before he knew it the butt of Lady Culian's spear struck Mance's face. She moved so fast Jon barely caught the tail-end of her attack. He noted that the other Wildlings did not move to intervene. She must have outranked Mance by quite a bit.

"The fat one is a Maester-in-training, isn't that right, Ser Hefty?" Culian glared at Sam, who nodded eagerly. He did not take much issue at the insult, perhaps because he realized that his life was on the line.

"It's as milady said, Ser Mance Ser. Training under Maester Aemon himself, I am," Sam blabbered but stopped when Mance began laughing.

"He called you Milady?! Hah!" Mance japed while looking at Lady Culian in obvious amusement. The glare from her red eyes was the only reply he received.

"I'm surprised the old man is still alive, but if he's taken an apprentice then you might have _some_ worth to her Highness."

Culian merely gave Mance a look, who signaled for the other Wildlings to lower their weapons. As if they had practiced it, the two groups melded together seamlessly and began marching deeper into the forest. As they marched, Jon noted that Culian and Mance pulled further ahead of the group and were in deep conversation. Ygritte choose to remain at his side. At first he wondered why, but then he began to get an inkling when he realized several of the archers were women as well.

"Nice catch there, Ygritte. Mind sharing him after?"

"Hey fatty move. I wanna get a good look at yer pretty friend's backside."

"Fraya likey, I call after Breren gits her turn."

Despite the cold weather, Jon felt his face heat up from their blatant catcalls and leering gazes.

"Aww, isn't he cute blushing like a virgin!" the one called Fraya squealed in delight, and unfortunately Jon made the worst mistake he could have. He stumbled at her remark even as his face got hotter. Suddenly, he noticed the group had stopped and all eyes were upon him, both male and female.

It was lady Culian who made her way to Jon and looked him in the eye.

"Boyo, how _OLD_ are you?"

"I am ten and eight," Jon replied faltering pride to the stunned look on the pretty woman's face.

"An- And you never..." Culian gestured toward Jon's lower region, to which Jon could only shyly look away in embarrassment.

"Bwhahahaha!"

"How cute!"

"Ygritte! My best blade, my family bow and my sheep for his maidenhead!"

Jon just wanted to crawl into his surname-sake and die. The men's jeering laughter contrasted with the women's delighted whoops. Thankfully, Lady Culian only shook her head in amusement.

"Southerners," the man named Tormund snorted derisively. "I was fucking before I had hair on my chin!"

"Why'd you think I left?" Mance Rayder looked back at the scene in amusement.

"Too many men, not enough women."

Thankfully, that had been the end of it. Jon no longer felt cold due to the heat from his embarrassment, but he did notice that Ygritte remained at his side. Jon could not help but find himself excited for some unknown reason. So it was with Jon deep in thoughts over his predicament and maybe future peril, when he felt a soft tremor pass through his feet. It was so faint he wasn't sure what it was until he felt it again.

"And we're here," Mance replied as they came upon a crest in the clearing ahead that seemed to slant lower.

Jon and Sam looked at each other, wondering what the steady rhythmic beating was, until they followed Lady Culian to the crest in the forest and openly gaped in awe at the sight before them. There were Wildlings and their huts as far as the eye could see from this elevated position.

"Mother have mercy on our souls and Father protect us," Sam uttered his prayers under his breath. Jon had to agree, even though he believed in the Old Gods. Because old or new, the host before them was terrifying, stretched all the way to the horizon.

"Looks like we impressed them, now let's get to her Highness," Culian japed before she motioned for the group to bring Jon and Sam with her.

Jon whipped his head back and forth, trying to take in everything. There were large pens that contained several-hundred Direwolves, while other areas, lined up in crude orderly rows, were blacksmiths forging crude-looking swords and armor.

"Careful! Giant passing through!" A Wildling yelled and Jon turned to see several giant, metal figures walk past them. They were large, at least over fourteen feet tall, and muscular. On their backs were giant-sized bows and axes. But most disturbing of all was that their faces were hidden by an armored helm.

"Giants, Jon, giants… they should be extinct..." Sam whispered low enough that only Jon heard it.

"How are we going to fight them Jon? _How_?"

Jon wished he knew. How do you fight a fourteen foot armored giant? Not to mention the host he could see here that stretched as far as his eyes could see.

"How are they even feeding this army?" Sam wondered before he realized something.

"Jon, they can't feed an army of this size… that's why they're going for the Wall!"

"Right you are, little robust lord," Culian explained, and for the first time Jon saw a savage grin appear on her face.

"No Wildling army has ever broken through the Wall," Jon whispered, but realized seven-hundred – Seven-hundred brothers were all that stood between this Wilding Host and the North. He needed to get word to Robb and his father. For as bad as the Wildings were, what followed in their wake was worse.

"Y-You know of the White Walkers' coming! We need to stand together if we are to have any chance!" Jon reached for any reason for this mighty host to not attack Castle Black.

"Aye, that we should," Culian stopped before patting Jon's cheek. "But that would be up to you crows, now wouldn't it?"

"Let me talk to them, I can convince them!" Jon pleaded desperately, and was surprised to see Culian smile at him.

"Oh, you'll get your chance. You, the fat one over there and that other crow I saved a while back."

"Other crow?" Jon asked before they arrived at a hut tent that was larger than the others.

"And here we are!" Culian stopped in front of the tent. "Mance, you're with me. You too, Ygritte. The rest of you lot get ready."

Jon was trying further inquires about this other prisoner when he was pushed inside the tent and was faced with perfection. Blood-red eyes were the first thing he focused on, as if fire were lighting them up from inside. His next line of thought was that the Maiden herself came down from the very heavens and took on mortal form. She was tall, he could tell that even though she was sitting on a throne made of vines and thorns. Her hair was like stolen sunlight, cascading wildy down her back with two long strands in front. How long he stared at her, he did not know, but she did grace him with a smile and he almost felt like doing anything to see it again.

Then Jon blinked and took her in once again, this time noticing details he had missed the first time. She was wearing partial armor made of gold. Not like the Kingsguard he had seen, but dragon's gold. It was highly impractical the way she wore it, she only had one shoulder pauldron on her right side and armor all the way down to her gauntlet. Adorning her waist was an elaborate armored belt that merely protected her two sides and leggings that started from her upper thigh down to her feet.

Most importantly, she showed a lot of skin. In this cold weather that should've been a death sentence but the woman did not appear bothered by it. A sable-colored tunic covered her from the shoulder down to her mid-breast, enough to cover her nipples but left the lower half exposed. Underneath her hip armor were black leather breeches cut indecently short, her creamy-white thighs were exposed up until where her leg armor began.

Jon could not stop staring, but the more he blinked as he took her in the more her got used to her overwhelming presence. Finally, he shook his head from what he was certain was an illusion and looked at his surroundings. That's when he noticed, on either side of her, were two strange-looking children. Their hair was the color of fallen autumn leaves, with large ears and weird colorings on their skin. However, he knew for certain something was off when he looked at their eyes, both pairs were gold, which was unheard of, and slit like a cat's. These two, like the woman, seemed to be unbothered by the cold weather, their only clothing was a cloak of leaves apiece.

"You're the Queen Beyond the Wall..." Jon breathed out finally as his senses returned.

"Must be losing your touch, Highness. He stopped staring at you after only a handful of minutes," Lady Culian's husky voice fully snapped his thoughts back into focus, and he turned to her instead. That's when he caught sight of Sam, his eyes were dreamy and his mouth twisted up in a goofy grin.

"More _mongrels_ before me? Explain yourself, Dog," the golden woman demanded. Jon realized that her voice was not sweet as he had imagined, instead it was gruff, commanding, and huskier than Lady Culian's. It was a voice meant to command. He also realized that the golden woman had just insulted the spear wielder, but if she was offended it did not show.

"Well, Ygritte think this one is pretty and plans to steal him," Culian pointed to Jon, who took a few steps back.

"The one smiling at you stupidly is the apprentice of the old dragon. Figured he might be worth something."

"Hmmph, I guess he could be of use. Get him ready with the other one," the Queen Beyond the Wall ordered and raised a hand to dismiss them.

"Oh? We're leaving already?" Lady Culian asked with a quirk of her eyebrow. "Bugger, I need to leave now then- Mance."

Jon watched as Lady Culian left with the traitor Night Watchmen in confusion. Wait. That meant they were left alone here with the Queen.

"What is your name boy?" the Queen commanded, and Jon had no reason to deny her.

"Jon Snow, Great Lady, and that there is my friend, Samwell Tarly," Jon explained and saw that his friend, completely redfaced, was finally coming to his senses.

"My Lady, surely you are aware of the White Walkers. We could work together with each ot-"

Jon was cut off as the Queen laughed imperiously at him. The way she held herself was even more regal than Queen Cersei when she had visited Winterfell.

"My Lady-"

Jon tried to press on, but two cloaked guards came in. They had patches of animal fur on their heads, concealing their features.

"My Queen, your carriage is ready. Would you like us to throw these two crows in with the other one?" the larger cloaked man asked.

"No, Have them march beside my dais. I want them to bear witness to my glory."

Jon was then roughly pushed out of the Queen's tent by the two men. Sam nearly tripped, but soon they arrived at another tent with several cages. Inside one was a haggard-looking Benjen Stark!

++ The Wall++

The Wall was looming closer, and pretty soon they would be within its kill-zone. Looking up he could make out the blot of the sun just starting to set. The trip had not been as harsh as he'd imagined, a mere five days of easy walking in truth. He was bound together with his uncle and friend, the three making a three-person gang. Next to them was a wooden dais carried by eight large men. On the dais, sitting lazily, was the Queen Beyond the Wall herself.

It occurred to Jon that they still did not even know her name, not even his uncle. They simply referred to her as The Queen. Jon had asked her Golden Grace once during the third day of their journey, but she merely ignored him while the men carrying her mobile throne laughed as if it was the greatest jape ever told. Another odd thing was that Jon could not find any trace of Lady Culian. He figured a high-ranking person of her stature would be here, near the Queen. Also, as much as he loathed to admit it, he missed the red-haired girl who had kept him company before.

It was just as Jon was able to make out the north-gate that the Wildling army stopped. So they knew about the kill-zone. It must have been Mance who informed them. Suddenly a smaller Wildling approached the Queen, this one did not seem to show as much deference as the others he had seen. Could it be Lady Culian?

However, for the first time, he saw the Queen's face light up before becoming stern again.

"Little sister, Val, I thought I told you to stay with the rearguard."

"And shame you by not being here on the front line?" the smaller woman took off her fur-patched helmet to reveal lustrous honey-blonde hair in a braid over her left shoulder. Her eyes were a paler green, almost blue. She could have passed for a Lannister, judging by her beauty. She also had an imperial air about her, but it was not nearly as potent as the Queen's own.

The Queen and her sister appeared to be locked in a debate.

"You really want to be the first through the gate?"

"I do, more than anything, in your name sister," the other woman answered, her eyes showing conviction. Which was just enough to convince the Queen.

"Fine, I'll _allow_ it," the Queen grinned haughtily and her sister returned the same grin. With a quick nod, Val equipped her helmet and moved to the front lines, yet still outside of the Night's Watch's archers kill-zone.

"Are you certain you want to risk her safety your Highness?" a man carrying her dais asked. That surprised Jon. Were the men carrying the Queen of noteworthy rank? Just who was this woman?

"What can I say? I have a weakness for pretty blonde, green-eyed girls with a strong will," the Queen leaned back with a lazy pose in her chair. She was still in that golden armor, but with as little as she wore, Jon figured she didn't need to change often. Sam had also built up more resistance to her beauty. Oddly enough, the two weird little children Jon had seen with her before were not here. When he asked, his uncle admitted he hadn't seen them either.

"Ah, the time draws near," the Queen spoke as night began to fall.

The only sound after the queen's last statement was the breathing all around him. He could see the torches on the battlement being lit and knew their brothers were getting the defenses ready. Suddenly, the queen stood up on her dais and spread her arms out wide.

"It is time! Show them my might!" the Queen could be heard clearly through the woods. A few seconds later the roars from the men swelled all around them. It bathed her in their adulation as she stood there, basking in it.

"You heard the Queen! Sound the horns of war!"

Jon did not know who had shouted save that it was a gruff voice, most likely belonging to a grizzled veteran. The sound of horns echoed through the woods. Such was the volume that Jon almost had to cover his ears. Sam went ahead and did so while his uncle's face only showed his discomfort. The next phase started as torches lit all through the forest as far as his eyes could see. How great of a host did the Queen actually have? Even his Uncle Benjen was surprised by the numbers.

Oddly enough, no Wildlings charged forward, simply remaining in place. An hour must have passed and the only action was the continuous, steady beating of drums. At least it gave his brothers time to fortify their defenses. Suddenly, an eagle flew down and perched itself on the Queen throne, it seemed to nod at her and after a few moments it flew away.

"Culian has begun her assault. Attack!" the Queen commanded as she stood with her hand stretched out, as if the North Gate was only a minor inconvenience.

"You're a fool if you think you can breach the gate unmolested!"

Benjen taunted the Queen, even as twenty-four giants walked out in front of the army. On top of being armored, one out of three held a crude shield as tall as them that looked like it was made of pure iron. Then, as if trained to do so all their lives, they lifted the shields over their heads, the giants without a shield helping to hold them up. Then the shields overlapped to form an umbrella of sorts, akin to a turtle, but the giants did not move until the Queen's sister and two-dozen armored Wildlings took shelter under it.

The giants moved as one at a brisk pace to the North gate. Jon could feel his uncle was just as curious as he was when they could not spot any battering ram. Then it happened. Two of the giants released their hold on their shields and bent down to pull at the gate. That wasn't possible was it? They couldn't actually be strong enough to lift up the gate! But lift it they did, though the gate protested at being opened so unnaturally.

A steady rain of fire-lit arrows from the wall battlement hit the iron turtle but merely bounced off of it. Even the burning oil splashed off of their shields harmlessly, the only thing that seemed to make any of the giants stagger was the barrel of gravel. If only they had bigger rocks!

"Ready~~~!" the Queen raised her arms up and Jon felt the Wildlings tense. Her eyes were narrowed as if she could see from that distance.

"Hold~~~!"

Once the gate was lifted the giants at the back row moved in and used their iron shields to prop the gate open. Immediately, Val and her Wildlings rushed inside the entryway, their savage joy made evident by a piercing war cry.

"Attack!" the Queen swung her arms down as the flood of Wildings charged through the opened gate, all but two armored giants had already filed in and were no doubt engaging his brothers. Attacked from the front by the most unlikely of means, and hit from the south where they had little defense. At once, Jon knew that Castle Black would likely fall. He could hear the sound of steel clashing echoing out of the gate, even as the Wildling host raised their shields and charged through the opening.

"Why are we still alive?" Benjen Stark's voice came out hoarse, as he (like Jon) had realized what this meant.

"You should've let us die fighting like our brothers."

"Perhaps you still can, but only after you take a message to your brother for me." The Queen ruthlessly told Jon's uncle.

Benjen eyes widened at the Queen's answer, but nodded stiffly. "What do you want me to say to him?"

The Queen took out a rolled-up leather parchment from her side before she carelessly tossed it to the First Ranger.

"Tell him that this will be the new map of this land from now on. I have no more interest in expanding South as of this moment. His seat is safe."

Jon and Sam watched his uncle's eyes widen again before his face paled. A moment later Jon saw why. The now redrawn map featured only a single line. One that started at the borders of Deepwood, all the way across to the Dreadfort, until it ended at the Weeping Water. This was a third of the North! It also took the Umbers, Karstark and Bolton lands.

"Th-there is no way he would agree to this. They'll fight you to the bitter end!" Benjen stared wide-eyed at the map.

"Then after I _destroy_ them, I will have more land," the Queen stated, as if it were inevitable. "I am showing mercy as it is. **Do** _not_ push me."

"If you do this, there will be no peace between our people," Benjen muttered as he looked at the Queen. "The North will not stand for your violation."

"Let the mongrels come," the Queen challenged, seemingly thrilled at the fact by the way she stood over them from her throne, one hand on her hip with it cocked to the side. "I will teach them the folly of challenging me."

"The other kingdoms will come to their aid. Are you really prepared to wage war against the entire Seven Kingdoms?!" Benjen tried to point out the flaw in the golden queen's logic, but if anything that only amused her more.

"All of the Seven Kingdom will eventually learn that they belong to me," the Queen adorned a savage smile.

"I have simply allowed them to rule it until now."

+++ Aemon – Castle Black +++

Maester Aemon Targaryen closed his eyes as he heard the din of combat from the men outside. Never in his one hundred and one years had Castle Black ever been assaulted the way it was now. The clashing of steel rang loudly, letting him know how dangerous the situation was.

Moving as quickly as he could, Aemon made to the raven's roost and searched for the one from Winterfell. He fumbled around, feeling the various birds. With his vision going, he had to rely on touch to remember for him.

"Ah hah, there you are," Aemon spoke softly to the black blur in his hand. Taking out a hastily scrawled script from his robe, he attached it to the raven's foot. He remembered reading about how the Wildlings could take control of animals. What if they took control of his raven? With some great effort, he let all of the ravens fly free. He heard various squawks from the ravens, some of them shot down by the Wildlings.

"Here you go old friend."

_**"Protect the gates, they are trying to breech it!"**_

_**"Aaghhhh!"**_

_**"Get more get more men down here, damn it!"**_

_**"Errraaahhh!"**_

Aemon slowly made his way back to the library. He was too weak to carry a sword, too old to do much. It was all in the hands of his brothers now. He thought about burning the books and the knowledge within, but realized he could not bring himself to do it. Castle Black will be taken back eventually, and the knowledge stored here would help the next succeeding Maester.

Aemon slowly sat at his desk and waited. He burst with pride, hearing his brothers still fighting. The Wildlings would not find the Night's Watch easy prey. They were not soft.

_**"They breached the gate!"**_

_**"Gods above, what are they!"**_

_**"Giants?!"**_

At times like this, Aemon wished he still had his sight. He would have dearly loved to see a fabled giant before he died. He judged it to be the dead of night when the fighting finally quieted down. Aemon, with patience honed over a century of life waited for his turn to die with his brothers.

The sound of heavy footfalls could be heard outside of his room before it opened with a loud bang. Straining his eyes as best he could, he could only make out a blob of gold. Oddly enough he could smell fresh Autumn leaves and a hint of spring rain mixed with morning dew. Curious.

"Maester Aemon!"

Aemon smiled when he heard his apprentice's voice. "Ah Tarly, I'm glad you are alive. Is your friend okay?"

Tarly was a clever boy so he knew what Aemon was asking.

"Jo-Jon and the First Ranger were given horses to ride for Winterfell with terms from the Queen," Tarly voice sounded nervous and scared.

"I- I was kept back to show her Highness the way to your chamber, o-or if you were d-dead..."

"I understand. It appears Her Grace has me at a disadvantage," Aemon looked at the golden blur again, acknowledging her with the respect she was entitled with a tilt of his head.

"Congratulations on doing something no other Wildling King before you could ever achieve."

"They fought well, for what's its worth. Low in numbers as they were," the Golden Queen replied honestly and Aemon smiled at that. Her tone were commanding, it reminded him a lot of his great aunt with that commanding tone and presence.

"Now, I believe an old friend of yours would like to chat."

Aemon had to raise an eyebrow at that. Most of his old friends were dead. He felt a soft touch on his temple and suddenly his vision cleared. He was stunned by how clear everything looked, how smooth. Suddenly he was above the Castle, the Walls, he was in the air, flying north at breakneck speeds. During his flight he felt a chill down below and looked to find its source. What Aemon saw horrified him, the dead stood by the thousands no- tens of thousands, but they were not moving. They were standing, waiting. And then Aemon saw him, a being who radiated power, twin glowing blue eyes pinned him with his gaze. Aemon felt cold as if the hand of the Stranger was upon him, and then he was falling somewhere, toward a large vibrant tree.

There was darkness, and then suddenly light when he heard his named being called. His old body pushed itself up only to find there was no injury from his journey here. He heard his name once again and looked up to see a man wrapped in tree roots hanging high above him.

"Aemon, my old friend, it is good to see you again."

Aemon stared at the man, long white hair and blood red eyes were watching him. But the face, that face was one he'd never forget.

"B-Brynden? Brynden Rivers?!"

"It is good to see you still alive, old friend," Brynden not moving, his entwined body nodded. To Aemon his voiced croaked and broke like a dying old man, as if he were trying to sound out the words again.

"Tell me, did you see _**Him**_ on your way here?"

Aemon shuddered and nodded. There could only be one person that the long-thought-dead Ranger of the Night's Watch was referring to. Cold blue-as-ice eyes still sent shivers down his back at the mere memory.

"Then you know we must unite the Seven Kingdoms to face our ancient enemies," The ancient Brynden Rivers stated with certainty.

"The Seven Kingdom are currently at war. They would not stand united until there is a victor and there is no one that could do that." Aemon voiced with some sorrow. Once more the realm bled, this time over mere rumors if one were to believe.

Renly, Stannis and Lysa Tully had declared open rebellion. So far the opening strikes have been in the Crownlands and Tyrell's holdings. The Vale had been a surprise, but Lysa Tully for some reason wanted the Princess Baratheon dead. What was also unexpected was the Alliance between Dorne and Storm's End. The union between Renly and Arianne was supposed to seal the pact. To further insult King Joffrey, their wedding was to take place on the same day as his with the Tyrell princess.

"Good, that will make it all the easier," Brynden said, though to Aemon's ears he still sounded hoarse, obviously not used to long conversations.

"The High Queen can unite the Seven Kingdoms. They will bend the knee to her, I have seen it."

"You are talking of the Queen Beyond the Wall?" Aemon asked for clarification even as he explored the cavern.

"Yes, my friend, in her flows the blood from the Kings of the First Men, the Elders of the Children of the Forest and the Lords of the Giants," Brynden tone held a disturbing kind of reverent awe.

"I have watched her unite the remnants of the First Men and the Giants under her banner. Doing so was a far more difficult task than what Aegon the first achieved with his sisters."

"If she is capable, then why do you need my help?" Aemon asked curiously before he replied in amusement.

"I am no young man to go questing."

"Because I far older," Brynden replied with a tone Aemon barely identified as amused.

"I need you to search for Bran Stark. Where he is at I cannot reach him. He is to be my replacement. His destiny was veered off course somehow."

"A Stark child? Why?" Aemon asked in challenge. There was no malice or hubris.

"Because if I die, the Wall will fall and the magic keeping most of the Night King's forces asleep will be broken."

+++ Daenerys- Harrenhal +++

Daenerys Stormborn Targaryen Pendragon went to the new Dragon Roost whenever she was feeling lonely. After the incredible night with her brother (that still made her body tingled with desire) and his subsequent anger, she had decided she needed to spend time with her children. Her dragons had gotten much larger, at least as big as a horse. The beasts were allowed out hunting at night, but were smart enough to come back before dawn before anyone could see them. They had to keep their instincts sharp, after all.

As if sensing her mood, Vserion, Rhaellion and Rhaeynion came over to nuzzle against her body. She had not gotten to spend a lot of time with her brother these past couple of years. First she wanted to stay back in Essos to let her children grow up safely, then when she arrived at the giant fortress of Harrenhal she made her beloved brother angry with her almost immediately.

Daenerys understood what she had done wrong now, but she had really only ever intended it for Arthur! It was not her fault the Stark girl chose to cook and used it in all of their food! She vividly recalled memories of that night, she could recall with perfect clarity the moment when her brother made her a woman. His woman. It was the happiest moment of her life, they had fit together so perfectly. Though there was her pain of a maiden, she relished in it. Dragons do not mate gently after all. She had thought it would make her brother closer to her, instead it changed their relationship entirely.

Few were the times Daenerys have seen her brother angry, but it had never been with her, never her. The day afterward, when she was dreaming of children and dragon kings, Arthur confronted her. She realized then that she had awoken the Dragon. What followed was a verbal lashing so harsh it still sent shivers up her spine. But she finally understood, her brother wanted to learn to love her as a wife, but she had pushed the issue and her thoughtlessness had affected others. While some had shrugged it off, other were still visibly affected, since then the Lady Lorelei to behave skittishly around her brother. For the first time Daenerys felt bad about her actions.

It had been Mordred who had intervened on her behalf to soothe her brother's anger the moment she heard from her guards what was going on. Yet another thing Daenerys did not expect to feel, gratitude toward a Baratheon. The blonde was serious about keeping the peace of House Pendragon. She hated it that Mordred seemed to hold a lot of sway with her brother. For when the girl asked her brother to be lenient, he did. Later when the two talked, she asked Mordred why she ever intervened and the answer only confused her more.

_'The worst thing that could ever happen to House Pendragon is if its blood turns against itself, on that path lies madness and destruction.'_

Daenerys did not understand. Madness? Destruction? As if that could ever happen. But she realized her faults and sought to make amends. However it was not yet time, her brother's anger was still palpable. She understood, of course. Dragons were passionate creatures, it would take time for his anger to cool. His rebuff to her attempts with gaining an audience with him was proof of that, although she knew he'd probably feel bad about it later. After all, who else knew Arthur better than herself?

"Rraag..." Vserion, the cream-colored dragon nuzzled her hair some more. Out of all the dragons, Vserion loved her brother the most. Perhaps it because he was named after Arthur.

"I know, I miss him too," Daenerys stroked the tip of Vserion's scaly nose affectionately. She was careful not to get drool on her new dress. It was made from silk, like the one from Essos, the silver dress emphasized her cleavage and showed a generous amount of her bare shoulders. Its fashion was considered a bit scandalous, but Danerys did not want to conform to Westerosi standards.

"Rrragh..." Vserion let out a low sad trill. Next to her, Rhaellion and Rhaeynion matched their brother.

"Well, that is why you three have to get big if you want brother to take you into battle," Daenerys assured her children. Naturally, she intended on having blood children with Arthur one day but Mordred did have first go with that. It was a good thing Sansa had taught her about safe days. Being able to couple with her brother as much as she wanted for a few days without fear of impregnation, truly a blessing. Sansa had already proven it worked with the amount of times she and Arthur coupled.

"Rraghh arah..." Vserion cried before he rested his head in her lap for comfort.

"There, there." Daenerys stroked the cream dragon's head lovingly. It surprised her that they loved her brother so much, but perhaps that was a byproduct of her hatching them.

"Lady Daenerys?" Captain Belidos, the leader of her personal guard, knocked. The tall, dark man from Essos watched the dragons warily, and took a defensive stance as he entered.

"Yes, Captain?" Daenerys asked with mirth in her eyes. She knew that it agitated the man when she used his rank, but he would forever be Captain Belidos to her.

"News from the front, my lady," the ex-Essos sellsword reported and was surprised at how fast Daenerys got to her feet.

"News of Arthur?" Daenerys asked hopefully, suppressing a squeal of delight when he nodded.

"Arthur has crushed the Vale forces at Saltpan and lifted the siege of Maidenpool. Stannis Baratheon's ground forces were broken, their naval fleet is still strong though. As for the Vale, they could be attacked again, but the Westerland army is reinforcing it with local levees. Your brother is a hero."

Daenerys could not help but match grins with Arthur's ex-captain. Truth be told, a lot of rumors were started about Arthur's skills. He had gain notoriety for his accomplishments in Essos, but that was only known to the Essosians that moved here with Arthur. And though his efforts with the bandit extermination made him a hero among the smallfolk, none of these achievements were looked upon favorably by the Nobles of the Seven Kingdoms.

In truth, Stannis' forces in Maidenpool had rebuffed all attempt by Joffrey own forces for the past two months, while Tywin could not spare enough men for fear that Stannis could still attack King's Landing by sea. Arthur himself was put on the sidelines while the war continued, and Harrenhal was made a nexus for resupply and repairs. Of course, the main reason was the food. They had the best cuisine in all of the lands, from the Castle down to the furthest tavern, the food was second to none. All a byproduct of Sansa's influence she been told.

Harrenhal was also a trustworthy point to pass their supply caravan through, a safe route that bandits dare not enter in after the great purge. Despite all of that, Arthur had not seen action in the actual war until he was called three weeks ago. They had given him what they considered a difficult task, but after this victory it looks like he gained political capital now. Daenerys also expected that Arthur would be given a larger role in the war after this success.

Still, that brought Daenerys to her next important question. "When is he due back?"

"He should be home within the week. Princess Mordred is aware and Lady Sansa has already left to gather ingredients for a feast."

Daenerys nodded before she looked to the dragons, or more specifically a box contained in nest of the three. This was what Sansa and her had been working on, but Sansa had gifted it to her to present to Arthur in hopes of mending their relationship faster.

+O+O+

The week stretched long for Dany, but the moment she heard the trumpets blare she knew Arthur was within sight of the castle. After Rose and her sister made sure she was presentable, Dany walked out to join Arthur and his other wives in greeting the return of their husband. Mordred was wearing a beautiful blue dress with a white dragon curled all around its body. Sansa's dress was also blue, but a lighter shade with little sword patterns on it. Lorelei's was a mix of sky-grey and black and Dany herself wore white.

The three looked at her, clear excitement in their eyes. After all, they saw the gift Sansa and Daenerys had created and wholly approved. That was when she saw the first group enter. It was Commander Gywr and her daughter, the Pendragon flag hoisted high in the air and a deafening roar rose in response. Dany was surprised to see even Mordred and Lorelei had pitched in exuberantly. Then the rest of the elite soldiers filed in and made two lines as they began a chant that was picked up by the smallfolk lined up to see their Lord.

_"Arthur!"_

_"Pendragon!"_

_"Arthur!"_

_"Pendragon!"_

_"Arthur!"_

That's when Arthur rode in on his black armored stallion, his spear banner fluttering in the wind. He rode tall and proud, but unlike the men who were cheering or grinning, he did neither. Instead he let his eyes roam around, then locked with hers, acknowledging her before he hoisted the banner higher into the air. That made the people cheer even louder.

+O+O+

The celebration afterward was a bit excessive, in Dany's opinion, but fortunately his wives and mistress, Commander Gywr, Captain Gwyn, Galina and Arya were here in their dining room, feasting in private while Arthur shared his war stories without much embellishment. Dany was hit with a wave of nostalgia, it used to be just him and her talking like this in Volantis. The only sour note was Harold Hardyng was the Commander of the Vale forces at Saltpan and seemed to hold a grudge against Arthur.

"Damn it, he escaped!" Mordred pounded the table in frustration, than promptly blushed when he saw Arthur looking at her with amusement. Dany was beginning to noticed the dual natures of Princess Mordred when it came to her brother. She wondered just how much Arthur was aware of his favorite wife's personality changes around him and others.

Gwynn had a dark look on his face, but could only nod along with Mordred assessment.

"His rear guard did a superb job," Arthur acknowledged with a hint of respect in his voice, he then turned to look at the girl most affected by the news.

"Sorry Lorelei, your countrymen fought well."

Lorelei only demurely shook her head, still unable to meet Arthur's eyes after all this time. Now that was starting to make Dany feel even worse!

Arthur sighed at his mistress' reaction before he turned to Sansa and gave a smile that made him look younger. "Once again, you've outdone yourself, Sansa. You have no idea how jealous the Westerland men were of our forces come meal time. In fact, Ser Jaime often supped with our forces."

There were amused chuckles across the table, Sansa had made sure there were competent cooks in Arthur's forces. Of course they would be envied by soldiers eating gruel.

"_Ahem_\- Sansa, I heard you and Daenerys were working on something?" Mordred suddenly began, looking at her sister-wife. The two made eye contact and grinned while the rest of the group were curious.

"Oh-right- yes. Working, that uh Daenerys, do you have it by chance?" Sansa said in a very unnatural manner that made Mordred wince while the rest gave her weird looks. Dany was amused, apparently mummery was not in the extensive skillset of Sansa. She seemed so good at almost everything else though.

"What are you ladies hiding?" Arthur looked at his wives suspiciously. Like usual, her brother had no patience for a well-crafted surprise.

"J-Just know that without Daenerys, even with your… ah, a-assistance," Sansa suddenly grew red at this part, which confused Dany, "We could never have created it."

Sansa nodded to her and Dany strode to the corner where she had Captain Belidos hide the box earlier. It was not so heavy that she needed help to carry it. She felt all eyes upon her and she carried the box over and placed it in front of Arthur. From the shape and size of the ornate box, it was obvious what was inside.

"I know you've had _Irisviel_ with you for a long time, brother," Daenerys began and Sansa's breath caught for a bit. Odd. "However, not many know that I was the one that gave that sword to you."

Now that caught people's attention while Arthur had a tender smile on his face, solely directed at her. It made her feel very warm.

"I was only five when our servants robbed us after our caretaker died. Arthur was able to preserve our mother's crown for me so that I could keep something of hers," Dany saw Arya gasp and even Sansa looked sympathetic.

"In case you didn't know, he can be thoughtful like that at the most unexpected times."

There were bemused chuckles from their companions as Arthur flushed red.

"Dany..."

"After the assassins came for us, Arthur took up being a sellsword. Everyone know this, correct?" Dany looked at the crowd as Gwynn and Lorelei exchanged surprised looks. Perhaps not everyone knew after all.

"However, being new to the sellsword life, he could not afford a good weapon. He was still using weapons he had taken from his kills, but none of them were very impressive."

Dany remembered the worn-looking weapons Arthur sported early on, as the new recruit Arthur had to forfeit the best loot after a job.

"So I took our mother's crown and exchanged it for a better weapon, one that was new and suited to his style of combat," Daenerys revealed to people's shock, as Sansa's face slowly morphed into an expression of realization.

"I remember you were very sad when you found out how I bought your blade. You even tried to return it, but the crown had already been sold."

Arthur looked down at the table sadly, no doubt berating himself. She knew he often kept an eye out for the crown during his deployment to new cities.

"However, I _found_ it brother. It was by chance, but I found our mother's crown again," Daenerys disclosed with a large loving smile. Then she opened the box to reveal the first new Valryian blade in over three-hundred years.

"And I asked Sansa to incorporate it into the cross-guard."

Dany took no note of the gasps and stunned looks from everyone around them as she watched Arthur slowly lift the blade from its container. It was sheathed in an ornate scabbard with a gold cross at the top, with "v" shape pattern going down its length for a short while. That was followed by a gold-shaped diamond against a black backdrop until the tip.

"Please draw it, brother."

And Arthur did. He leveled the blade in front of him and slowly pulled the sword from its sheath. The blade started to curve inward until it straitened out toward the middle and was tipped with a sharp point. The blade itself had a simple coloring of blue and gold adorning its silver-like edge. Dany watched as Arthur stepped back and swung the sword around, testing it.

"It's a masterpiece," Arthur whispered in awe.

"I was inspired by the stories you told me, the one about the sword in the stone and the other from the lake. I hope that was not too presumptuous of me," Sansa spoke up and everyone (except Arya) looked at Sansa in complete shock.

"Aw, no fair, I would like to hear those stories," Arya Stark pouted cutely, but Galina whispered something into the younger Stark's ear that satisfied her.

"It's perfect," Arthur agreed with Sansa's earlier comment, his eyes still on the blade. "Did you name it yet?"

"We decided to let you do so brother," Daenerys gave Arthur a loving smile, but his eyes were still on the sword. It truly was a masterpiece and extremely difficult to craft. Even after helping to create it, she still found herself wanting to gaze at it forever. Just how did Sansa get the colors so vibrant?

"Excalibur… _Novus_." Arthur uttered softly and noted that Mordred, Gwynn, Lorelei, Gywr and Galina tensed and locked their eyes on their Lord.

There was something about that name that enticed Dany, that sent shivers down her spine. That was a kingly sword name. No. A legendary one.

"Yes, Excalibur Novus would do nicely."

Daenerys watched as Arthur touched the cross-guard where she had Sansa weld their mother's crown with a most tender expression on his face. Not for the first time, she wished she could have met her birth mother. Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed Mordred looking at Sansa with a somewhat puzzled expression. Perhaps, if it was a story that everyone knew, she should get Arthur to tell her as well.

TBC...

AN: Shaka! And the Wall Fell!

Well if you don't know who the Golden Queen is by now... well you'd find out next chapter. If you do know, you can see her gender bent picture, just type it in, that's the style I am going with for her. And yes, Val is in there. I base most of what happen on the wall on the TV series version, with the book numbers version. So in the TV, without Jon taking charge, they would have literally been screwed that night. Without Jon, they are screwed. After all "There are no such thing as giants and mammoths!" Janos Slynt says so right?!

As for those that didn't know the Green Seer was a Targaryen bastard, now you know! Oops Spoiler?!

As for Excalibur Novus , If you can have Excalibur Galatine, I figure excalibur Novus is not so bad, since it is made of Valryian metal. Also it's picture is made out of Fate Prototype Excalibur, and just to let you know, the one that you see is the Excalibur with a Sheath on it, you look for the one where it's drawn, it's flat and very elegant. It fits int he GOT world to me.

The happy balance I have is that, Sansa can make new Valryian blade bu the process is long and difficult. So if she works on it, one blade a month. Since Arthur sheath is also Valyrian, it's two months. It might be a waste of metal but, it a worthy sheath for the blade.

As always, C+C welcome, reviews greatly appreciated!

Up next: End of Book 2!


	21. Book 2: Chapter 10

Game of Thrones belong to G.R.R.M

Fate Stay Night belong to Type Moon

A Throne Nobody Wants

Special Thanks to Mingyu for editing this sick and tired as he was! Beastly

Book 2: Chapter 10

+++ Robb- Dreadfort +++

Robb Stark, heir to Eddard Stark and Warden of the North looked out across the battlefield to view the Wildling host assembled before them. He had never seen such numbers in his life and they looked as if they outnumbered the Northerners by quite a wide margin. Worse, they had bits and pieces of armor on. Which was generally better than the leather tunics a lot of the Northern soldiers wore.

"Gods, what are those tusk creatures?"

"Are those _giants_?! Fuck and I thought the Mountain was tall..."

"They're still Wildlings, so that makes them half the men we are!"

The large Northern army, twenty-seven thousand strong, assembled on the north side of the Dreadfort to stare down the opposing army across from them. Both sides had yet to engage, content with watching the other's movements. It had been like this since dawn, and as far as Robb was concerned that just gave the North more time to fortify their defenses.

"So… Jon. You _fought_ these people?" Robb asked his brother with a hint of incredulity and respect.

Robb looked over the "Bastard of Winterfell" and was once against surprised by the changes wrought in his brother, and a little envious if he were truthful with himself. In the time Jon was gone, he seemed to physically take after their father more than Robb ever could. His brother had the hard jaw line of their father. And with the way Jon had his hair pulled back, not to mention the shadow of the beard on his face, he looked like a much younger version of Lord Stark. Robb had let his hair grow out to imitate his father, but it grew out a deep copper-red like his mother's.

"_Some_, but mostly I fought wights," Jon replied as he stared at the enemy host before them. He looked distracted, but Robb could understand why. The Night's Watch, for all intent and purpose, was gone. The only two known surviving members here with the Northern forces.

Robb memory returned to when his uncle and Jon had ridden into Winterfell with dire news about the situation at Castle Black. Luckily for them, a raven had arrived well in advance from their Maester, so the bannermen were already called. Howland Reed and his bog men were all that remained to guard the Neck in case the war down south made its way toward them. The rest were to gather at Winterfell before marching north.

Jon and his uncle reported on the Wildling army they had seen, how they had met with the Queen Beyond the Wall and her demands. Maester Luwin mused to his father that the odd-looking children Jon described could have been the fabled Children of the Forest. His father, as had most of the household, had been skeptical about that, after all, Wildlings were a known enemy, but giants and legends walking among their army? Wights? Undead? Perhaps it was a wilding trick or just some really big men, like the late Ser Gregor Clegane. Now however, now that Robb have seen with his own eyes the giants and the even larger creatures they commanded, Robb felt ashamed about doubting Jon's report.

"You've not been slacking on your training, have you _Lord_ Robb?" Jon broke the ensuing silence as Robb grew contemplative.

"I can still trounce you, Valyrian blade or no, Snow." Robb retorted with familiar ease to his brother's ribbing. And wasn't that a surprise? Jon had been gifted a Valyrian blade from Jeor Mormont himself! Jon had offered it to Lady Mormont, but the large woman of Bear Island said she trusted in her brother's decision.

"With my Pendragon blade, you'd not find me an easy win."

While the new type of sword did not have the luster of Valyrian steel, it did have similar ripples, and an edge just as sharp. It could also take heavy strikes without dulling for a long period of time.

Before the two brothers could continue, there was a short horn blast all along their battle line, and Robb's father rode out with his trusted bannermen to midfield. Robb, being his father's heir, also had to ride out, but not before he beckon Jon to come with him. His brother appeared reluctant, but he was one of the only two ranking members of the Night's Watch left and deserved to be at the parlay being held. Besides, if what his Uncle told him was true, Jon was to be groomed as the next Lord Commander of the Night's Watch.

Robb rode out with Jon in tow and linked up with his father's group, which consisted of Lord Roose Bolton, Greatjon Umber, Lord Rickard Karstark, and his Uncle Benjen. Out of all their sworn houses, the three men with his father was the most affected by the invaders as the Wildlings pushed south. Their armies overwhelmed by the sheer numbers the Wildlings had thrown at them. It was a small miracle that Greatjon's army remained intact for the most part. With Karstark Hold taken, Lord Bolton was the last to face the imminent threat of invasion.

"A good morning for fightin," Greatjon, a large grizzled man standing at seven feet tall, spoke up first as he surveyed the Northern force behind him. "First we destroy the witch. Then we push the fucking savages back beyond that puissant wall!"

"Can't do it fast enough if you ask me," the oldest man in the group grunted. The man was large with long hair falling pass his shoulders. "Knowing these fucking twats are nesting in Karhold makes my blood boil!"

"Patience, good Lords," Lord Roose Bolton of Dreadfort spoke up, his voice carried despite how reedy it was. "I stand to lose as much as you all, but we must make them fight on _our_ terms. If you haven't noticed, they outnumber us by quite a large margin."

"Roose is right," Lord Eddard Stark spoke up and the lord of Dreadfort deferred to his father. "Once we draw them in, we'll slowly make the way back to the shadow of the Dreadfort. There our archers would have a better chance at thinning their ranks."

"Bah! A defensive battle. I hate those!" Greatjon spat in disgust, but huffed.

"Charging headfirst against them did not do you any good at Last Hearth, or have you forgotten?" Uncle Benjen pointed out to the large man, who grumbled under his breath at the reminder.

"Of course, war could still be avoided. We have enough enemies in the South. We don't need any to the North," Lord Eddard Stark spoke up before giving Robb's uncle an apologetic look. "If what my brother told me is true, they are only here because of the _White Walkers_. If we can get them to agree to stay within the Gift's boundaries then they might be content to stop raiding south."

"You cannot be fucking serious, Ned! Are you really daft?" Greatjon's look of incredulity towards Robb's father made his thoughts clear anyway, but he realized what he had just spoken and looked away in embarrassment.

Eddard the Fool, they were singing in the taverns to the south. A lot of the Northern Lords had not liked that and wanted to go south to fight anybody and everybody for the slight against their pledged liege. But, for once, they did not have a clear enemy. Joffrey had let Robb's father go free, and even returned their family blade while Stannis Baratheon had abandoned his father. The Lord of Dragonstone had written to Ned Stark to apologize, and was quick to point out that he too was in danger at the time. Still, the fact was Stannis, Renly and Brynden had left him behind. There was no guarantee the traitors would not abandon the North on the battlefield if they found themselves in the same situation again.

At the same time, Joffrey had insulted the north by insulting Ned Stark. His father was also not quite convinced that Joffrey was not a product of incest, so the notion of joining him to fight his best friend's brothers had thrown him into turmoil. The Lord of the North had wanted to declare Eddard the King of the North when the war to the South had begun, but his father had rejected that title for now. Not until he was sure, at least.

Unfortunately, his inaction had lead smallfolk to believing Joffrey's slander. It was all but known that Joffrey had paid minstrels to go around the seven kingdom and sing the tale of Eddard the Fool. Even though a lot of their sworn Houses have forbidden it from being sung, it still made its way through the populace. Robb knew his father still commanded respect, at least from the Lords of the North, but from the smallfolk it had greatly diminished.

Even Robb did not know what to think and posed the same question to Jon, who had a lot of catching up to do after his sojourn beyond the wall. But his brother could offer no clear-cut answer. The silence that had fallen through since Greatjon's statement persisted until they saw movement in the Wildlings' line.

"Greatjon, I'm not afraid to fight, but the Night's Watch is gone and with them the only defense against the White Walkers. If this so-called Queen agrees to restricting herself to the Gift, then it would give us more time to plan against the real enemy while using her as fodder."

Robb smiled at his father's commanding tone to his bannermen. They looked reluctant to agree to such terms, but they would follow his father's lead.

"And if they don't?" Greatjon grumbled as he hoisted the parlay flag higher.

"Then we'll fight and push them back beyond the wall like you wanted," Ned Stark replied with an easy grin to Greatjon. Now there was the steel Robb knew his father had in him. Greatjon tipped his head in response, showing just how much respect his father had regained from the lords assembled.

"Here she comes. Remember, don't let yourself get distracted by her inhuman presence and beauty," Uncle Benjen warned, and his brother nodded in agreement.

Robb really doubted that anyone could be so beautiful it was inhuman, although his father had often said Rhaegar and the Targaryen's of old were like that. Then the Wildling ranks parted and Roob saw her. Carried by eight large Wildlings, sitting atop some sort of throne, the Queen Beyond the Wall was carried over to them. Robb felt his breath hitch even as he heard soft gasps as the lords around him did the same. However, she wasn't as distracting as Jon made her out to be, as he noticed that they all recovered rather quickly. Perhaps it was because of the situation that made their minds clearer. Jon did say that he had met her privately.

"Maiden's tits, that's a fine-looking wench," Greatjon muttered as he watched the Wildling Queen approach them at midfield.

As the Wildling Queen got closer Robb could see that she was dressed as his brother told him. It was borderline indecent, Robb had to admit. And while it was not quite as cold here as beyond the wall, there was still an icy breeze blowing through and the woman didn't even shiver. Robb noted that his father seemed to be just as distracted as the bannermen, eyeing the delightful skin on display. Smooth and without blemish or scar, if she knew the men where ogling her she showed no sign of taking offense. In truth, her face had a bored expression on it.

The two sides were silent, until Robb realized his father was showing chivalry by letting the woman go first. Unfortunately, she did not seem interested in initiating their talks.

"Greeting," Ned Stark began, having waited a polite amount of time. "I am Lord Eddard Stark, the Warden of the North and these ar-"

"Stop," the Queen spoke up, her voice husky and commanding just like Jon had warned him. She then stood to her full height, and because she was on the dais, that naturally made it so she was looking down on them. "I am not interested in your names _nor_ your titles. I only need to know if you have agreed to the terms I gave your brother. Yes or no?"

Robb watched his father frown, even as Greatjon and Lord Rickard looked at her with murderous eyes. This was definitely not how you negotiate. But if she was bothered by it, she did not let it show.

"My Lady, what you are asking for is too much. We are, however, willing to concede the wall. And yes, the Gift that comes with it. I'd even be willing to supply you wit-"

"Enough," the Queen interrupted his father once again before she looked at Robb's Uncle and Jon. "You two did a poor job of conveying my demands. But I guess if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself."

Before Uncle Benjen could respond the Queen turned back to Robb's father.

"It does not matter what you offer, the map I drew was the least I was willing to accept. If you do not agree then I will take it either way. It will _inevitably_ be mine."

Robb watched his father's expression turn steely.

"Then so be it, Wildling Queen. War it is."

Without needing to be told, the Queen was carried back to her lines even as they headed back to theirs. Robb rode back to his formation. At the center of their battle formation was the Bolton's men, with their large shields and long spears. They could also engage the Wildlings at a longer range and stop any cavalry from coming close. Ned Stark would hold the left wing and gave Robb a small command of a sizable group of Winterfell's men. Greatjon had command of the reserve cavalry, while the Umber's infantry would hold the right wing with the Karstarks. Robb had dismounted, as he would only stand out by staying on the horse, and took up position next to his men.

Robb readied himself as the horn signaled for them to began a slow march forward. Jon was right next to him, round wolf shield in hand, his Valyrian blade drawn. Robb gave him a smile even as they began marching forward. At thirty paces they stopped, Robb heard bows behind the lines being drawn, then loosed, aimed at the Wildling lines.

The Wildlings remained in their initial position, banging their weapons on their shields tauntingly. Robb watched the arrows land a good thirty paces before the Wilding ranks. Then the Wildlings gave their response to the Northmen, in the form of a sky filled with dark objects.

"Arrows!" Robb shouted to his men, the front row knelt down while the second row angled their shields diagonally. Robb himself was in the forth row and held his shield over his head. He saw the Wildling arrows land a good fifty paces ahead of the Northern lines. Robb could not help but smile at the obvious advantage.

The horn sounded again as the army moved up thirty-five paces and stopped.

"Shields!" Robb yelled as his men knelt and assumed their defensive stance, even as he heard arrows firing behind him. He watched as the rain of death angled over their heads, and watched as the Wildlings also raise their shields in anticipation of the incoming volley.

There was a swell of cheers from the Northmen as the Wildling's line was peppered with arrows. Robb saw a few enemy go down, but not enough to make a sizable dent as other Wildlings filled the gaps.

Another horn sounded, this one different, which let Robb know that the army was to slowly retreat even as the Wildlings began to march forward. In an ideal world, the men of the North would be able to keep the five-pace gap and continue to pepper the Wildling lines to their hearts' content. Unfortunately, this was reality, and the army could only move as fast as their slowest members. So after three unanswered volleys by the Northmen, the Wildling's reply volley finally made the distance.

"Incoming!" Robb shouted as his men once more took up defensive positions. The oddest thought occurred to the him when the arrows struck, it sounded like pebbles striking Winterfell's roof. Robb heard several screams and curses from their men. Unfortunately, there were some fatal hits even with all the shields angled to protect their heads. Some of the greener soldiers had been foolish enough to rest the shield on their head for more leverage, not realizing that the arrows could still punch through it.

"Back slowly. Slowly!" Robb heard Jon caution some of the men around their ages. They were fresh, while Jon was blooded. Already he could see another volley sail over their heads toward the Wildlings, who appeared to have lost patience for this game of cat and mouse and moved forward at a quicker pace. Robb almost openly showed a pleased smile, but maintained his demeanor. This was how the North hoped the Wildlings would react.

"Steady!" Jon cautioned as the men tensed up upon seeing the Wildlings start to close the gap, despite the last attack causing some notable casualties.

"Here they come!"

The final horn blared, which let the men know to hold their ground.

"Shield WALL!" Robb bellowed as the men lined up their traditional three-layer shield wall as the Wildlings were upon them.

However, what happened next took Robb by great surprise. The disorganized Wildling that had been rushing toward them slowed as if if they were-

"They're copying us!" Theon Greyjoy, his father's ward and Robb and Jon's childhood friend, shouted in panic. A few paces before the Wildlings have clashed with the Northern lines, with discipline that should not have been possible for their kind, they too formed a three-layered shield wall with great speed and accuracy.

"Fuck!"

"Brace yourselves!" Jon shouted as he stood next to Robb, readying his sword as the two sides clashed.

What followed was the scariest thing Robb ever experienced. Suddenly there was a storm of swords around him. The men in front began to stab through any open gap they could find in the shield wall. While at the same time, the enemy weapons were also stabbing through those same openings or through a weakened shield. After all, not everyone could afford shields made of thin iron.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck!" Theon shouted as Mycah the butcher boy was stabbed in the throat and released his shield. Luckily, Jon rushed to fill in the gap with his own shield while stabbing Longclaw through the gaps.

"Ahg!" Jon shouted as an enemy spear cut the top of his hand. But when he withdrew his sword from the gap, it was tainted red with blood.

Robb knew the shield wall had worked against Wildlings in the past to great effect. They simply did not have the training or discipline, according to the history books. Now that the Wildlings were able to copy their style, the shield wall would become a battle of attrition. Which side would break first? Who had more stamina to hold their shields while avoiding getting killed? He only knew which side had more men.

Worse, he could still feel the Wildling arrows raining down on the ranks behind them.

"Hold steady men of the North!"

Robb heard his father shouting and smiled upon hearing it. Of course his father would be on the front lines. It was to his father's credit that the men yelled back in support. His father had explained that they could not let this turn into a free-for-all melee fight, as much as the Umbers would like it to. That would simply give the advantage to the Wildlings. So Robb stood fast, stabbing at the hands that stabbed in their shield wall gaps while the other side did the same.

One thing that Robb was certain the history book never spoke of was how long a shield wall battle took. Before he knew it, it was already past midday. The sun was over their heads and still there did not seem to be any give on either side. Of course they rotated shield-men, in fact, Jon had just fallen back a bit to rest his arms before he'd returned.

There was another blast from the war horn with a higher pitch that made Jon and Robb looked at each other in surprise. The signal meant the cavalry had just deployed because they found an exploitable opening in the enemy ranks. There was renew vigor from the men on the shield wall, as they realized the battle could be decided any moment now. Had it really been hours since the two sides clashed?

Still, Robb and Jon threw themselves back into the battle, their respective blades stabbing through the openings. Robb was sure he had gotten another one as his blade came back coated in fresh blood. Meanwhile Jon had grabbed a spear that fired through a gap and stabbed his sword back, killing whoever had been holding it on the other side.

"Robb, careful, your cheek!" Jon warned his brother before he gave a few more stabs through different gaps in his area, hoping to catch someone.

Robb was confused until he wiped his cheek on his shoulders and saw blood on it. When had he gotten his cheek cut? This battle was unlike what Rodrick ever taught him. There was no room for pirouettes, or fancy deflections, not even ripostes. All he was doing was stabbing through the gaps and praying he HIT something. This was fighting at its most tedious. But before long it was Theon that brought something to his attention.

"Shouldn't the knights have crushed their flank by now?"

Robb looked at Jon, and the two could sense something had gone wrong. No sooner had they thought it than three horn-blasts made themselves known. Three blasts meant an order to fall back to the Dreadfort.

"Alright! Slow, lift and ease back!" Ser Rodick, the Castellan of Winterfell, bellowed his orders as the shield wall lifted as one and pulled back. Of course, that was when the wildlings took advantage of even that slight opening and stabbed at their feet. They were able to get quite a few men who cried out when their ankles and tendons were cut. Unfortunately, to maintain the integrity of the shield wall, they had to leave those men behind.

"Ease!" the command came and the men slowly retreated back, leaving their crippled men behind.

"What happened to the cavalry?!" Theon demanded. Robb had no answer, even as the Dreadfort loomed closer from behind. He saw the Bolton archers firing from the wall frantically, then became surprised when some of the Bolton men got pierced by a spear with such force that they were thrown right off the wall.

What was that?! Their scouts reported no spitfires or scorpions siege equipment!

"I don't fucking know THEON!" Robb shouted in annoyance and narrowly dodged a crude sword that almost opened his neck. "Just focus on fighting!"

Soon they were in the safety of the shadow of Dreadfort, but that did not deter the Wildlings. Suddenly there was what Robb could only describe as a shudder in the line. From their position, Robb and Jon continue to do their jobs and kept up the attack, but that's when the first cry of panic echoed out.

"The Bolton's line is breached!"

Robb glanced up to the wall and saw the Bolton archers now aiming toward their front gate, firing in that direction. The Boltons, with their long spears, held the center. Which also mean they were in charge of defending their gate.

"What do we do?" Theon asked Robb. From his lessons, a breached line meant that their flanks were in danger of being rolled up.

"The giants broken through the gates!"

"Father!" Robb shouted in real fear. His father would probably go to center to reinforce the Boltons! Jon also shared the same look of fear in his eyes.

"I'm with you, Robb," Jon said without hesitation. The two Stark brothers disengaged from their shield wall, even under protest from Ser Rodrick, and hurried over to the front where a large melee was in progress.

Armored giants were cleaving men in two with each stroke, while archers peppered them from the walls. Their arrows proved ineffective and simply bounced off their thick iron hides. Though some did seem to make it through gaps in the armor, it did little to slow down the large monsters.

"There!" Jon pointed, as he found the Direwolf-head banner fluttering in the melee.

"Let's go!"

And so Jon and Robb waded into the free-for-all melee, the shield wall at the center all but gone. Men were fighting for their lives, both inside the Dreadfort and out by the breached gate. Robb took a moment to take in the destroyed gate as the battle already poured inside.

Then the worst news came. Four long, drawn-out blasts of the horn.

"Full retreat?" Robb looked stunned while Jon looked chagrined.

Some men in the shield wall broke formation and ran. They were easily picked off by the Wildlings. The rest began to move away from the Dreadfort in an easy fashion, though they were slow. Robb ignored it all, he was determined to find his father.

With familiar teamwork, the two brothers fought their way to where the Stark banner lay and witnessed a horrifying sight. Their father was on the ground, clutching the stump of his sword arm. Standing imperiously over him, with blood tinting her golden hair and armor, was the Queen Beyond the Wall. In her hands were blades that looked as if they were made out of weirwood, not sporting a normal edge, but instead seem to be wild in pattern. Then the Queen stabbed through his father's thighs before kicking his chest, making him lay flat on his back.

Robb saw that his uncle was also on the ground with several strange arrows embedded in his knees.

"Father/Uncle!" Jon and Robb shouted as they rushed the Queen, their swords raised to attack.

To say that the Queen made a mockery of of their skill was understating it. Both Robb and Jon had thrown their full strength behind their strikes, only for her to stop both with her own weapon. While they both strained with all their might, the Queen looked bored. Then she relaxed her grip, making the both of them stumble off-balance. It was instinct more than anything that saved Robb, as he brought his sword up just in time to block an attack that would cleaved him in two across the waist. Jon had likewise done the same and the two retreated from her strike.

Just as the Queen was about to attack again, she stopped to tilt her head to the side, an arrow flying past her neck and through her hair harmlessly. Jon and Robb saw that it was the Bolton bastard who had fired the shot, and he sent another toward the golden queen only for her to bat it out of the air with her sword.

_'What inhuman reflexes!'_

"Robb, get father! I'll get Uncle!" Jon ordered and Robb could not help but agree, as the Queen's attention was no longer on them. Retreat was better than battling a monster like that. Unfortunately, that was not enough as the Queen jammed the hilts of her two blades together and a vine visibly grew to connect the ends, making the shape like a bow. An arrow seemed to grow in her hand, which she fired, effortlessly hitting the Bolton bastard with such force it pinned him to the fort walls. The whole transition happened in moments.

"Now were was I? Oh yes," the Queen simply looked in their direction, even as Robb dragged his father back to the safety of their lines, Jon was likewise doing the same for Uncle Benjen. Thankfully, an enraged Roose Bolton had gathered a small group of men and charged at the Queen, distracting her.

"G-Get _Ice_, Robb!" Ned commanded his son. Robb quickly searched for the Stark family sword and spotted it near a pile of the dead. Amazingly enough, the blade was still gripped tightly in his father's detached hand. Any pressure to decide between his father's life or the blade was taken out of his hands when he felt a presence behind him.

"Damn you, boy! Your father will have my head for this!" Ser Rodrick showed up with a group of Stark men that were already supporting his father and Uncle.

Robb quickly ran at an angle, keeping away from the Queen, grabbed the sword, arm and all, and rushed toward Ser Rodrik. It cost half of the men Ser Rodrik brought with him, but they managed to reach the relative safety of the Winterfell-held section of the shield wall. That's when the master-at-arms cuffed Robb and Jon harshly.

"You two are the going to be harshly disciplined for abandoning the shield wall like you did! But first we have a retreat to organize," the old grizzled veteran of three wars told Robb.

"Wait, where's Theon? I don't see him," Robb looked around for his childhood friend.

"He took your place on the shield wall and lost a few fingers for it!" Ser Rodrick rebuked Robb, making him feel guilty. "He's getting it cauterized as we speak."

Robb and Jon hung their head in shame.

"Enough of that, keep your wits about you and we'll make it. I swear."

Robb nodded to the grizzled man and looked back to the walls of the Dreadfort, now filled with Bolton men fighting with the Wildlings. He felt bad for abandoning their allies, but the Northern army was broken now. They had lost… and he remembered the Queen had said she would take even more land if they resisted her. After Dreadfort, the next major holdings belonged to the Hornwood, the Manderly...and Winterfell.

Even with Uncle Benjen's warning, nobody could have guessed that the Wildlings were this formidable. How did they get so many resources or became so skilled? More importantly, what could the North do about it?

+++ Varys – Meereen +++

Varys stood next to Jon Connington and Diarmuid, the Captain of the Kingsguard, as they waited for the emergence of Aegon Targaryen. The fat eunuch wiped the sweat off of his bald head. The heat in this city was quite unforgiving, even though he was indoors. Varys took a quick glance out the window and saw the familiar sight of the amassing fleet. Day by day more ships were made to carry the massive army of Aegon the Dragon King, as he now called himself.

Since Varys arrived, Aegon's numbers had tripled, the two sister cities of the slaver bay had been taken and all of the slave masters had been put to death. Morgan and the Golden Knights, as Aegon dubbed the Golden Company, had pulled off the impossible somehow. The Unsullied in their thousands had started training every male of age to fight. The women and childrens were put to work the fields and provide food. Khal Drogo and his screaming riders patrolled the path to the cities, killing all who came near.

It had been six months since Morgan and Aegon disappeared deeper into the Pyramid with the dragon Balerion. Jon Connington did not appear to be worried, and merely sent in large portion of meat on a daily basis. While Kingsguard Diarmuid (Dia for short) oversaw the creation of the fleet. However, today was supposed to be the appointed day, and the sorcerer Morgan have instructed them to wait in the throne room.

The three sat waiting in silence, no one talked, though Jon Connington kept giving Dia a sidelong glance when Dia was not looking in his direction.

Suddenly, a loud bestial roar that shook the entire room echoed throughout the halls. Whatever it was it sounded big and sent chills up his spine. Varys had to check his hearing as he patted his ears gingerly. A half-hour later Morgan appeared. He had a haggard look about him, seemingly exhausted, and was muttering strange things. After all, what could he mean by magics were more difficult here?

Magic, as far as Varys was concerned, was difficult everywhere.

"Lord Morgan, you've returned. Where is our king?" Jon Connington asked, though Varys noted the man's eyes lingered on the beautiful Valyrian a bit longer than necessary.

"First, get me some damn wine," Morgan wheezed before he brazenly sat on the King's throne. If Dia or Jon Connington had a problem with his actions, they did not show it. In fact, the Hand of Aegon moved to pour the silver-haired man a cup without hesitation.

"As for Aegon, I told him to get some rest. The ordeal was hazardous, but he and Balerion are now one body, one mind, and one heart."

"So it worked?" Dia asked the King's Mentor with a curious tone. Now that was a dynamic Varys found intriguing. While Jon Connington seemed to show Lord Morgan some reverence, Dia talked with him as if they were equals.

"Yes, it did," Morgan replied to the golden-armored knight with a pleased smile. "I have just created the greatest warrior in this world. Even above you, dear Diarmuid."

"The world is large," Varys cautiously advised. He did not like the hubris Morgan was showing, empires have fallen for less. Though he had seen Lord Diarmuid in action. He truly had no equal, on Essos at least. The only person that could challenge him was Khal Drogo, and even then the large Dothraki ultimately lost. "Lest we forget about Mordred Waters and Viserys Targaryen?"

Morgan suddenly laughed deeply, as if at some great jape.

"I know Mordred's secret," Morgan's smile twisted into one of malice. "Where I have failed with her, Aegon has triumphed! He is flawless where she is flawed. Stronger where she was weak. All of the imperfection I've overlooked have been corrected. Aegon is the perfect king, the true king. Victory will be ours under him, _that_ I promise."

Varys was confused. To his knowledge, Mordred had never met Morgan before, yet, the man seemed to hold a deep-seated grudge against the girl.

"As for Viserys Targaryen, he is not even _worth_ noting. He is but a tool of Mordred to live out a twisted dream," Morgan growled as he pushed the wine cup away. "Once we get rid of Mordred, Viserys will bend the knee."

"And then Aunt Daenerys will be my wife."

Varys looked up as he heard a voice that remanded him of Rhaegar, and saw Rhaegar reborn. Then the differences showed. True, the Rhaegar before him had silver hair and purple eyes, but the skin was a bit darker, likely of Dornish origin, and the purple was a deeper shade. Not to mention his body was more defined than Rhaegar's own.

"Aegon?" Varys stared in awe at the adult before him. Truly, Morgan was a great sorcerer to age the young man so quickly. He wondered if it could also work in reverse.

"Varys," Aegon gave him a kindly smile, albeit with a hint of exhaustion. "How goes our efforts in Westeros?"

"I thought I told you to rest," Morgan gave Aegon a vexed look. Like one a parent would give to an unruly child.

"How can I when there are so many things we have to do?" Aegon replied, glaring at his adviser in defiance.

"Fine," Morgan said finally before giving up an indulgent smile. "I suppose it is in a dragon's nature to be disobedient."

"Of course," Aegon agreed with a charming grin before turning back to Varys. "Well, my lord Varys? What news of Westeros?"

"The traitor Houses are at war with one another as planned, though there is a slight... hiccup," Varys hesitated a bit continuing. Morgan had now moved off of the throne to allow Aegon to sit. "The North did not join Stannis like I believed they would, though they are dealing with a possible Wildling incursion."

"Perhaps it is for the best," Aegon sat back on the throne and smiled. "I get to personally deal with the wolf whore's family."

The pure venom in Aegon's voice disturbed Varys, but he had heard far worse from Aerys.

"Now tell me the progress of our fleet, Dia."

+++ Epilogue +++

The Dreadfort, once owned by the fearsome House of Bolton, known to skin their enemies alive, had ironically became a charnel house. Corpses sporting the "flayed man" littered the hallway of the fortress. Though the Wildlings did the sacking, they would accredit it all to one person, their Queen. The golden figure was now standing atop the battlements, her golden locks, flecked with red, could be seen swaying in the wind. Her armor was misted with blood, as with her body. Yet her skin remained undamaged, smooth, still flawless.

Next to her was the person that was more personable by all standards, but just as deadly, the Queen's right-hand woman. Culian the Clanless.

"It was a good battle," the woman known as Culian broke the silence as they both surveyed the aftermath. Here and there battle standards from the houses of the North littered the ground, the Wildlings went about putting the survivors out of their misery and relived the dead of their valuables. Waste not want not. "Shall we continue the push south?"

The Golden Queen considered this a moment, before she shook her head.

"No. Let the men rest up, but tell them to burn these corpses quickly," the Golden Queen's mouth twisted in disapproval as she looked down at the dead. "No telling how far _His_ grip reaches."

The Golden Queen's blood-red eyes turned her gaze to the corpses of fifty armored giants being stripped for burial by their kin.

"Tch, well, it has to be done, I suppose," Culian the Clanless shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, message from Temper, the Wall gate is repaired. Good idea keeping those skilled workers alive, came in handy."

"THAT should be obvious." the Golden Queen retorted as she looked up at the sky once more and saw the sun on the verge of setting.

The two women settled in comfortable silence for a time, but it was the spear wielder who broke first.

"Not gonna lie, this stretch of land kinda reminds me of Ireland," Culian spoke in a wistful tone. "The rolling hills, the way the wind blows through the grassy plains. Though their folk remind me of Britons and Scots."

"We are far from that world, no point in missing it," the Golden Queen advised her companion. "Don't forget whose blood runs through our veins now."

"Righto," Culian agreed as she leaned on her spear for a moment longer. "Well, looks like I'll go and tell them we're stopping here. Set up camp and all that other stuff you said, see ya Queeny."

"Call me that again and watch me repeat what my counter-part did to you," the Golden Queen threatened with a soft snarl. Why did all great warriors have to be so quirky or irritating?!

"Yeah yeah, you just watch out for duel-wielding gingers. Apparently they're your Achilles heel." Culian the Clanless gave a cheeky smile before she jumped down the wall.

Gilgamesh, Queen of the Wildlings, had to visibly restrain herself from killing the reincarnated Cu Chuliainn.

End Book 2.

An: So ends Book 2 which I dub A Clash of Kings and Queens. Few Point I would like to run through.

1\. The battle was base partly on what I saw from Braveheart, The Kingdom, and Vikings. Sorry but they seem influenced by those lot more. A Shield Wall is an an effective way to deal with savages, not good against one another, but it's not like the romans shield wall either. You don't need that much training for it either but if you do get flanked you are fucked.

2\. The scope of the battle. I only showed what Robb saw, in the later series, I might spin multiple pov at the same time to show descending action. So what happened to the Cavalry and why did their line broke, what tactics did the Wildling used? Would be answered through Book 3.

3\. Gilgamesh, yes, I spelled out the name. Weapon LOOKS like the one from Fate Prototype. I noticed it kind of look enough like a weird sword and bow combo. As you also noticed. NO fucking gate of babylon! I didn't give ARthur Excalibur and Excaliblast, Nor Lorelei Arondight, why would I give Gil Gates of Babylon?! Gotta have some tension in this story.

Side note: For those that is unfamiliar with Fate Stay Night Gil. THere is three version of him. WHen he was young, he was very friendly and people love him. When he was old, he was arrogant and crueled. The third one is the one that was tainted by the Holy Grail in Fate Stay night. It's long winded but that one is an arrogant dumbass.

This is for the Fate fans, If I did it where Fourth War Saber was reincranted, while Sansa is Pre-War Shirou. Then with the clue given. You should know what I did with Gil and maybe Lancer.

Thanks alot for reading!

As always C+C welcome, reviews appreciated!

Up next!: Book 3, A storm of swords with a slight chance of dragons! GRRM gonna be pissed~~~~!


	22. Book 3: Chapter 1

Game of Thrones belong to G.R.R.M

Fate Stay Night belong to Type Moon

A Throne Nobody Wants

Special Thanks to Cheeser, who's back in action, and Mingyu, how have gotten over his cold!

Book 3: Chapter 1

+++ Joffrey- Blackwater Bay +++

Joffrey Baratheon, Kings of the Andals and First Men, was pretty certain that he would be the last of his name after tonight so long as his traitorous uncle breached the city gates. They'd been tricked; his dwarf of an uncle had told him that the two-pronged attack by the rebels had turned into three. Stannis' fleet was suppose to link up with Vale forces in an effort to push south from Maiden Pool. His grandfather had decided to lead the defense with his uncle Jaime and his detestable good brother in tow.

However, they had all been duped. Stannis had completely bypassed Maiden Pool, breathing down their necks before they knew it. The King's Landing patrol fleet was able to limp back into Blackwater Bay just in time to warn them of Stannis' imminent arrival.

Any plan Joffrey's uncle Tyrion had devised was thrown out of the window when his traitor uncle's fleet was spotted on the horizon the next morning. Thus began the siege of King's Landing. Ravens had been sent, but there was no way to tell if they have been intercepted or received. Now Joffrey stood on the battlement (the front lines!), at his uncle's urging, to boost the men's morale. His Uncle Stannis had been content to soften up the city by bombarding them until tonight. Tonight his uncle's War Galley spat out troops and made for the city gates.

"Your Grace," Lancel Lannister, his cousin, came running up to him out of breath. Joffrey could barely make out his face behind the shadows cast by his helmet. "The Queen has sent me to bring you back to the Red Keep."

Joffrey could feel all of the men's eyes upon him. All of these soldiers who were risking their lives to defend him and his crown. Even his uncle was looking to him with those misshapen eyes, ever judging. In truth, Joffrey's instincts told him this was the perfect excuse for him to avoid the battle. After all, he couldn't ignore his mother's summons. Perhaps it was an emergency! She was royalty after all! Or maybe his fiancée had taken ill? As her future husband, wouldn't it be natural for him to be concerned for her welfare?

"Your Grace, we need to _leave_." Lancel reminded Joffrey again, his eyes conveying the urgency in which they needed to depart before the battle began.

Joffrey opened his mouth to agree, only to find no sound would come out. He saw everyone, even his kingsguards, all straining to hear his reply. The pressure was immense; he had never realized that battles could be like this, nor that the war would reach his very doorstep.

"They're going to break through soon!" A guard shouted even as arrows were fired into the enemy forces from the battlements.

"Your _Grace_!" Lancel prompted, his eyes trying to meet Joffrey's.

"Joffrey!" Tyrion's tone held a warning. The man was already dressed in armor, as comical as he made it seem. "Would your sister run?!"

It was as if cold water had been poured over him. Joffrey's hand subconsciously moved to clutch the locket hanging under his breastplate, which held a piece of parchment from Mordred's letter.

_-Though I grieve for father, I am proud of you.-_

The letter had contained advice, tactics, and much more, but all that paled in comparison to those words. It was the first time in a long while Joffrey had felt that his beloved sister approved of him. He was reminded of his sister again when he placed his hand on the hilt of his longsword.

"Someone get me a shield," Joffrey ordered finally and was pleased when he saw admiration from the men around him. Even his dwarf of an uncle. Lancel looked shocked, but Joffrey stared him down. "Go tell mother, I am defending _my_ Kingdom."

Then, practicing something Joffrey had seen Mordred do, he drew his sword and roared. It came out weaker than his sister's, or even his father's, but the men reacted to it all the same.

"You heard his Grace! Get him a shield!" Tyrion, his uncle, sounded pleased as a soldier quickly handed Joffrey a round shield emblazoned with a Lion. This wasn't the first time that his father's Stag had been replaced by the Lannister's Lion, oddly enough. If this kept up, people might begin to think the rumors regarding his parentage were true!

"Uncle," Joffrey looked down to his uncle. It had been years, but something akin to respect shone in the smaller man's eyes. "You're good at speeches and you're here fighting with me, you do the honors."

Tyrion cracked a wry smile at his nephew before he turned around and addressed the assembly. Joffrey did not pay too much attention to his uncle's speech; he was more concerned with remembering everything his sister had taught him.

_'You may be shit at fighting but you sure can take a beating!'_

Joffrey smiled to himself as he raised the shield and adjusted its straps. He got into a series of defensive stances that Mordred had drilled into his very bones. He drew his Pendragon longsword and made a few slashing motions with it. The roar of the men's cheers let him know that his uncle's speech was finished as he too marched down into the yard, the sound of wood splintering let him know that the gate breach was imminent.

"Now, fight for your King, for Country and most importantly, your lives!" Tyrion shouted at the exact moment the gate swung open haphazardly, revealing men wearing the colors of Stannis Baratheon.

"For the King!"

And to Joffrey's surprise, his uncle was the first one to rush toward the enemy. The other men, as if shamed, followed soon after. Joffrey himself was about to join when the Hound grabbed his shoulder and held him back.

"Patience boy, just wait here. They'll come to you soon enough!"

Sure enough, more men flooded through into the gate and the battle slowly began to spread all the way up the battlement where he was standing.

"Kingsguard Ready!" Ser Barristan, Captain of the Kingsguard, shouted as Joffrey's personal guard formed all around him.

The battle, in Joffrey's opinion, was like someone pouring oil into water. He remembered seeing the black color of the oil mixed into the water, slowly tainting it. Stannis' men were that oil and Joffrey was fast running out of water.

"Steady!" Ser Barristan shouted as the archers behind Joffrey began to fire at the gate, hoping to thin out the men. The men on the wall over the gate were already dead, their bodies filled with bolts and arrows.

Joffrey felt his stomach roll, as if he needed to vomit. His palms were sweaty; his knees felt weak, and his heart was pounding so hard he couldn't hear anything else. The feeling of dread that he had was worse than when he jousted against the Targaryen. Yet, through it all, Joffrey had one single thing that kept him standing here to face down the oncoming horde. A single, shining golden light with emerald eyes.

Moments later the first wave of enemies was upon him.

"Die, traitors!" Joffrey shouted harshly as he charged forwards with his shield. The attack caught his opponent, a man as old as his uncle Jaime from the looks of it, off guard. With movements honed from years of training, his sword snaked out and easily sank into the man's flesh as his dark-brown eyes went wide in surprise as if he could not believe Joffrey scored a hit.

With a cruel smirk, Joffrey twisted his longsword violently, and blood bubbled from the man's lips even as the life faded from his eyes. Pulling out the blade, he was pleased to see it was bloodied. He enjoyed that, the overwhelming power he had over the man's life by his own hand. A twisted smile adorned his face now.

Joffrey searched for his next opponent and saw that the enemy's surge was being blunted by his Kingsguard, led by Ser Barristan. Still, there were a lot of Stannis' men around. He moved to engage another one, a boy around his age, and an untrained boy judging by how sloppily he swung his sword. Joffrey opened his throat gleefully.

How dare they challenge him- KING Joffrey Baratheon?!

"Kill them all!" Joffrey screamed at the top of his lungs as a red haze seemed to settle over him. One after another, he killed the men that came at him or those that got through his Kingsguard. Still, his smile just got wider as the red of his enemy flowed. Was this what his father meant when he said "Ours is the Fury?"

"Die you worthless dogaaaughh!"

Joffrey cried out in pain as an arrow sprouted from his left shoulder, the arrowhead sticking out the other side.

It hurt…

The battle frenzy, the haze that had just consumed him, lifted. Joffrey suddenly felt very weak and realized just how mortal he was. The Kingsguard surrounded him but still, death could come from anywhere! Joffrey looked around wildly, searching for any attacker. The world was spinning, and on its final rotation he saw a screaming bearded man wielding a large axe lunging for him. The man struck him hard, but Joffrey was able to raise his shield to block. Unfortunately, the man's strength was considerable and Joffrey's shield smashed back into his head, disorienting him and causing his ears to ring with the sound of temple bells and horns.

Questions popped into Joffrey's mind, the first and foremost being the whereabouts of his Kingsguard as he staggered from the attack.

The man swung his axe down toward Joffrey's head a second time, but by sheer instinct Joffrey managed to lift his shield up to deflect the blow before the man swiped at his face with a dagger held in his other hand. This time it was Joffrey's own training that saved him. The dagger bit into his cheek deeply, but Joffrey turned his head away and backpedaled quickly. The man lunged at him again and took Joffrey off-balance.

Joffrey stabbed blindly in desperation as his opponent deflected the strikes with ease. He then physically tore Joffrey's shield off his arm before backhanding him so hard he fell to the ground. He could hear the man's laughter. Several thoughts entered his mind at the time. First, why was that damn horn still blowing when the ringing in his ears had stopped. Was he hit that hard?!

Second, but more importantly, where the fuck was his Kingsguard?!

"Nowhere to run, ya little inbred bastard!" the man sneered before he stabbed down at Joffrey, only for a blade to suddenly appear out of the front of his chest.

"Urrrkkk-!"

The blade jerked up and split the man, skull and all, in half. There was a shower of blood as he looked up at his savior. His heart immediately seized for a second before it beat ferociously, for right there and then, he wished he was dead.

"Joffrey."

Mordred Baratheon Pendragon, his sister, adorned in a blue coat of arms and silver-colored plate was standing over him. Her armor blood-splattered and hair disheveled, she had never looked more beautiful or frightening to him. Frightening because he was on his back in front of an enemy, something Mordred had taught him time and time again to never let happen. Looking beyond her, Joffrey saw the banners of Pendragon and High Garden outnumbering Stannis'.

"Joffrey. _Focus_."

Joffrey looked up at his sister in amazement when she extended an arm to him. Almost in disbelief, he took her arm and felt her effortlessly hoist him back to his feet. His Kingsguard had formed a protective wall behind his sister and him. Still, he was afraid to look into his sister's eyes, afraid of her judgment on his cowardice.

"Joffrey," Mordred spoke again, her voice sounded more mature than he remembered. Or maybe that's how she always was on the battlefield. Suddenly, Mordred dropped her hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, despite it being covered mostly in armor. "You did well."

Joffrey's eyes snapped back to look at her again. She was disheveled, yes, and looked slightly fatigued. But the most important thing was that there was no anger in her eyes, no disappointment.

"Sister?" Joffrey asked uncertainly, of course she did not realize that her words could unmake him on the spot. "You're here..."

"So are _you_, imagine that," Mordred replied even as a soft smile bloomed on her face. Her eyes glittered with amusement as she looked at him.

Joffrey watched as his sister dug her hand under her armor and pulled out a small blue cloth, which she then applied gently to his cheek. He staggered a bit and felt his sister's grip tighten to support him. Yet she probably did not even realize that it was because he caught her scent from the cloth which almost sent him to his knees.

"Mother probably won't be too pleased about the scarring," Mordred continued as she held her cloth there to stop the flow of blood on his face. Joffrey nodded in agreement, their mother did put a big emphasis on beauty.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it; scars are what make men MEN after all."

If the Mountain Who Rides was still alive, Joffrey felt he would have been able to beat him with his bare fists. Blindfolded!

+++ Arthur – Leagues from Harrenhal+++

Arthur took off his helm and blocked the glaring sun with his hand. Above was a clear blue sky accompanied by a light breeze. Normally, Arthur would have considered this a nice day, but the landscape before him, littered with dead men from the Vale, made that all but impossible. After today, he doubted the Vale would be able to launch another sizable offensive southward anytime soon.

Since his liberation of Saltpan and Maiden Pool a month ago, he was being made use of more on the battlefield. Though Tywin was purportedly still in charge. When their spies had reported of a massive offensive by the enemy, Tywin and Arthur devised a simple strategy. From Harrenhal, Arthur would meet Stannis' forces at Maiden Pool. While the Westerland, led by the Lord of Casterly Rock, would meet the bulk of the Valean army when they tried to link up.

However, they had been tricked; the numbers that the Vale had spewed forth was greater than anticipated and threatened to crush the Westerland forces. Stannis had bypassed Maiden Pool and went straight for King's Landing while words of Renly's army also on the march striking deep into the Crownlands. Thankfully, just as Arthur was about to make his decision, a raven from his wife had arrived. With this new-found knowledge, Arthur rode north to reinforce the Westerland men.

Caught between the Westerland Army and Arthur's own cavalry, the Vale forces shattered like glass. Tywin had been enraged at him for giving away King's Landing, and possibly the Kingdom, but calmed down after being shown his wife's message. With Gywr in tow, Mordred rode with Harrenhal's reserve cavalry of twelve-thousand to reinforce King's Landing. It would no doubt leave a vast swath of their land defenseless, but she had given orders beforehand for all the towns to be reinforced by infantry and archers. It also left Sansa and Daenerys in charge of Harrenhal until he returned. Twelve-thousand in addition to the seven thousand stationed at King's Landing would be able to hold out long enough for Arthur and Tywin to catch Stannis' army from behind.

"Are your men ready?" Tywin asked him. He could tell the sharp-eyed, stern-faced man was assessing him every time they talked. It was ironic that he would end up saving the man that betrayed his blood-father in this world.

"They have been since the morning," Arthur let Tywin know. "We took light casualties."

"All of our available riders are ready father," Jaime Lannister spoke up, acknowledging Arthur with a nod. "We await your command."

Tywin nodded and the sixteen-thousand Westerland riders, with Arthur's own ten-thousand, made their way to King's Landing. Arthur turned around to see the Westerland men stripping the dead Vale soldiers of their armor and weapons. He would estimate that half of the Vale's fighting men were dead on that battle field. What a waste. They were good men, honorable.

The infantry would march when they were ready, but for now they needed speed.

+++ King's Landing +++

As they approached the Capital City of the Seven Kingdoms, Arthur could tell all of the soldiers were tense. They had rested the previous night in anticipation of a long battle ahead, only to be greeted by High Garden banners in Pendragon colors along the walls. Confused, they rode cautiously into the city and were greeted by cheering men from the Reach and Harrenhal.

"I'm going ahead to the Red Keep," Tywin announced to Arthur as he gazed at the still standing city and, most importantly, the lack of enemy ships in the sea. "Secure the area with Jaime."

Jaime looked a bit surprised at the order but nodded to his father.

"I'll sweep the south shores, you do the north?" Jaime divided up their task and made off with his half of the forces.

Arthur looked to Seroah with a nod before he began to delegate and start their own sweep. To his surprise, they did catch several stragglers from Stannis' broken army that were hiding out in the King's Forest. Their accounts of what happened were jumbled, but the only things that stood out were the fact that the King Joffrey had met Stannis' forces at the gate, and the army of Pendragon and Tyrell had surprised them from behind.

In total, they caught a little over two-hundred wounded stragglers, the rest having either broken further or turned to banditry. Arthur delegated a full half of his force to sweep through the northern part of the Crownlands completely, with orders to terminate the bandits with extreme prejudice.

It was to his surprise and delight that, upon his return, he saw his wife at the gate preparing to ride out. Immediately, he looked for Gywr and was pleased to see that his knight had not left his wife unprotected.

"Wife," Arthur greeted as he made his way over to her. The other Pendragon forces had spread out to secure the area and to give them privacy. Mordred was fidgeting with the hem of her coat, not daring to meet his eyes. His face was an emotionless mask as he addressed her. "It was foolish of you to charge into a besieged city. Sending Commander Gywr would have been enough."

Mordred still refused to meet his gaze, but instead looked to Gywr of all people for help. His gender-bent (a term Sansa had used) knight exhaled before looking at Arthur.

"My Lord," Gywr began with a somewhat grudging tone in her voice. "Your lady-wife carried herself very well."

"Oh?" Arthur asked, his face still stern, his eyes boring into Mordred's downtrodden frame. She exuded guilt and all he wanted to do was just hug her, as she was quite adorable like this. But first, he'd tease her just a bit more.

"Yes," Gywr stated flatly, her eyes half-lidded while her face became stoic. "She's a natural - almost as if she's done it before."

Arthur frowned at the way his former knight expressionlessly voiced her assessment. His reborn knight was impossible, and Arthur hated to say it, but Gywr's Mordred conspiracy was beginning to wear thin. He had even asked Gwynn and Lorelei's opinion, both had denied Gywr's allegation when he called a secret meeting with his knights. Even Galina had felt that Mordred was too different from the traitor knight.

"S-Sorry," Mordred voice suddenly made itself known. It was soft and laced with guilt. "But it was something I needed to d-do."

Arthur sighed and smiled as his wife let out a surprised squeak when he drew her into his arms.

"A-Arthur?"

Gywr set her jaw and glared at Mordred's back before she looked to Arthur. The two made eye-contact before the Amazon woman relented.

"However-" Gywr began, this time with more appraising tone to her voice, as if revealing a long-kept secret. "Your lady-wife's grasp of tactics and strategy is no less than mine, and perhaps even more."

Arthur saw his wife's golden head turn and felt her body radiate the shock she felt at the large woman's praise. He too was surprised to hear genuine respect from his knight.

"T-Thank you, Lady Gywr." Mordred sincerely replied to the woman, who many in Harrenhal knew disapproved of her for some unknown reason.

"It is merely truth," Gywr waved off the princess' words. "Just continue to serve our k- Lord faithfully."

With that, Gywr rode off and left Arthur and his wife alone. Putting her side-saddle in front of him, his arms preventing her from falling, Arthur let his horse walk through the city at its own pace.

"S-So you are no longer mad at me?" Mordred spoke up finally after they had passed several streets. He could see the common folk pointing at him and his wife. A lot were doing their best to curtsey or bow, to which he nodded in acknowledgment.

"Do you know why I might have been angry with what you had done?" Arthur looked down at the girl in front of him.

"Yes?" Mordred replied uncertainly. After a few moments of silence she bowed her head. "No..."

"It's because of the danger you put yourself in," Arthur decided that he had let her stew in her own guilt long enough as one of his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer, their armor making a slight sound as they bumped against each other. "More than that, you risked our potential heir."

Mordred stiffened before she looked up at him with rose-colored cheeks. "I-I'm not … not yet!"

"No, but you could have been," Arthur argued as he put a hand over her stomach. "I don't begrudge you going out to fight in wars, though leading an army was surprising. I had just hoped it would be after you've given me an heir, or two, perhaps even three?"

"A-Arthur~~~!" Mordred hid her face into Arthur's cloak. She was so easy to tease.

Though in truth, Arthur had it all planned out. First Mordred, then Sansa, and at that point he figured he would probably have enough courage for Daenerys...and pray to any and all gods that they would not turn insane or go crazy. Even though, according to Sansa, a woman named "Rin" had said their two dragon souls would purify any abnormality, one could never be too careful when magic was involved. He had firsthand experience as a former female who had grown a man's organ and used said organ back in Camelot.

_'Damn meddlesome wizard.'_

To Arthur's amusement, Mordred's face was still hidden from his view. Perhaps he might have gone overboard. His wife stayed like that even as they approached the Red Keep, and just as they entered a frantic-seeming Jaime had already mounted up looking uneasy.

"Ah, good-nephew, I was just going out to look for you," Jaime dismounted from his horse and walked over to Arthur. The man was surprised by the presence of his niece as Arthur lowered her to the ground before dismounting himself.

"There were some stragglers, but it looks like all of Stannis' ground forces are dead or have turned to banditry," Arthur reported. Jaime, however, remained agitated. "What's wrong?"

"Your good-father is injured," Jaime lead off with that, making Arthur's eyes widen in surprise. Since Mordred's father was dead, that could only mean Sansa's father. Lord Eddard Stark.

"How?"

"A Wilding Queen cut off his arm, crippling him," Jaime face looked disturbed by the news. "She led an army that smashed the combined might of the North at Dreadfort."

"That far?!" Arthur asked in genuine surprise. Being married to Sansa, he had decided to learn about the Northern area in more detail. Dreadfort was very close to Winterfell itself. "How was there no warning? Where was the Night's Watch?"

"That's just it," Jaime looked unsettled. "The Night's Watch is gone, wiped out; the Wildlings overran the wall in a single day."

Though Arthur had never seen the wall, he had heard of its immense size. For a Wildling army to achieve that, they must have been extremely well-coordinated.

"Sansa..." Mordred muttered quietly and Arthur realized Sansa would be heartbroken. She loved her father.

"The Northerners are calling for aid to repel the Wildlings," Jaime continued as he assessed Arthur's reactions. "My father intends on denying them."

Arthur grimaced, but he could understand where Tywin was coming from. Still…

"I'll go then," Arthur told his uncle. "This war is well in hand, only Renly is left; between High Garden and the Westerland, you have him dead to rights."

Jaime smiled and nodded. "Figured you'd say that, good-nephew. I'll miss seeing you on the battlefield."

"Just going to a different one," Arthur japed back with a smile. Jaime carried himself well and, for all of the smallfolk's rumors, the man was honorable. Arthur really could not see this same man fucking his sister, but then again, Arthur hadn't seen Lancelot's affair with Guinevere coming either.

"Just so you know," Jaime began in a light tone. "You can call for volunteers from the noble lords. You might be surprised by who turns up."

+++ Stannis- Dragonstone +++

Stannis Baratheon looked upon the water from his ship; he had yet to disembark since returning to Dragonstone. He fleet looked ragged and his men tired. The majority of his landing party had been crushed, and the ships that had made landfall were set ablaze by the enemy. He now only had half of what he had set sail with, including the men.

"I should've listened to you," Stannis told his wife, who had come out to greet him. The priestess he had dismissed before was by her side. She had warned him that Renly would betray him. He hadn't listened, he had thought blood meant something. Honor.

"It is not too late my husband," Selyse Baratheon, his wife, in an out-of-place gesture, gently rubbed his shoulders. "Melisandre has waited for you and believed that you would need her. She and her god will not leave you, unlike Renly."

Stannis looked over to his trusted adviser, Ser Davos, and saw the man's skeptical look. Truth be told, he felt the same. He could see his reflection in the water. Never handsome like his brothers, he had a hawkish face and was balding. Sometimes he wondered if he wasn't a bastard picked up by his father, what with how different he looked.

He had been so close! He had breached the city! Joffrey was in front of him! Victory was his and then the other bastard had shown up. He knew his former niece was fierce, but to lead men into battle? Even then, he might have still been able to eke out a victory. But when Stannis saw the banner of the Tyrells, he knew that Renly had betrayed him. Renly, with Dorne, commanded a sizable army. Even if his younger brother were to bugger everything up, High Garden should not have reached King Landing that fast.

"My Husband?" Selyse prompted. In contrast to his battered and bloodied armor, his wife's dress was clean, if a bit simple.

"I put my faith in men, and they failed me," Stannis tore himself away from his reflection and faced the red priestess. "How can your god help me?"

"You are the Azor Ahai," Melisandre, a woman of great beauty by any standard, took that as a sign and seamlessly floated over to him. "The prince who was promised, the last hero to save this world."

Stannis' eyebrow rose as he looked at his wife.

"Listen to her, there is more at stake here than the battles between men," Selyse reverently replied.

"I have seen it while you were fighting," the red woman tugged Stannis toward a still-lit torch. "A Golden Queen has descended from the north."

Stannis waited patiently. His maester had been the first to tell him of the news concerning the North and their defeat at the hands of a Wilding queen. Though in truth, such an attack affected the other kingdoms more than his, perhaps that would give him time to recuperate.

"And?"

"I have seen her, with her hair of spun gold and eyes kissed by R'hllor fire," Melisandre gripped his arm tighter. "My god tells me she is the Queen of Heroes. Or rather, a Queen worthy for a hero. Your Queen, King Stannis."

Stannis looked at the priestess of the fire god, somewhat entranced. He could not tear himself away from her hypnotic voice. Soon, she had a hand over his heart.

"You must go north my King, North to claim your Queen. And with her, the army at her command."

Stannis looked to his wife to gauge her reaction to her red priestess' words. To his utter surprise, she nodded her consent. There was no doubt in his mind that she agreed for him to make this Wildling Queen, his Queen.

And why not? Pendragon had multiple wives, why should he not? Especially if she was bestowed upon him by the fire god?

"Davos!"

"Yes lord?" the onion knight and Stannis' right-hand man replied.

"As soon as we are able, we go north," Stannis ordered as he gazed in the direction of his future Queen.

TBC!

AN: Yes, I went there! Bet you wonder how Stannis would go north this time! So yeah, the Storm of Sword comments. For some odd reason, perhaps it been so long, but when I first hinted at the Queen beyond the wall, and Culian, I said that there were only two more heroic spirit that would be introduced into this cross over. Gil and Lancer are those final two. There will not be anymore reincarnated heroic spirit or otherwise joining. No beserker, no rider, nada. AS for Culian identity, I was surprise by how many people that was surprised it was 5th war Lancer.

Also, Lorelei is just a human this time, but extremely skilled, but she have to work out since she let herself be raised like veal. Take time to get those muscle up to snuff to fight again. I decided also that Joffrey would be better suited to a sword and shield combo then straight two hander like Mordred.

As always, Thanks for the reviews! and C+ C welcome reviews appreciated!


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